


With Fire and Blood

by Phoenix199



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: A more imposing Jon (Both in Personality and in Physicality), A spin on Robert's rebellion, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Darker Daenerys, Darker Jon (More of a grey character than in the show), Eventual Smut, Everyone is a grey character, F/M, Golden Company is actually good, Jon & Dany grown up at chapter 9, Jon Snow is a Targaryen, Jonerys, No Elia, No one is Good or Evil, Personal struggle between Good and Evil, R Plus L Equals J, Romance, Some changes from canon, Targaryen Restoration, War, graphic description of violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-21
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2020-03-09 06:22:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 13
Words: 49,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18911329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phoenix199/pseuds/Phoenix199
Summary: The lords of Westeros had enough of Aerys, the Mad King. After overthrowing the Targaryen rule, Tywin Lannister is now proclaimed King of the seven kingdoms.Rhaegar, Viserys and the infant Daenerys is forced into exile in Essos.Jaehaerys, known as Jon, is also forced to exile in Essos. Believed to be dead, he grows up in an orphanage with no family and later joins the Golden Company as a teenager.As he rises through the ranks, the Golden Company gets hired by the Targaryens. They plan to retake the iron throne. With fire and blood they shall have their revenge.





	1. A Good Man

Arthur Dayne I

“Arthur!”

Arthur swiftly turned to the caller. He was standing above the hill watching for incoming riders. They were currently running out of time. Their location had likely been compromised, or would be any time soon. One could only stay hidden for so long when royalty was concerned.

“A raven.” Ser Oswell stated. “They are coming.”

So it was what they had feared, their time was up. Arthur quickly moved down the hill and ran towards the tower. Ser Gerold was standing by the stairs, throwing bags over the horse. “I’ll get our supplies, you get our Queen and Prince.” Gerold shouted at him. Arthur did not need any direction for what they were about to do. He remembered everything they had planned for the inevitable situation down to the last detail. They would have moved location a lot sooner had the queen been able to, though childbirth proved a tricky thing. You never know when it’s time and sadly, not every birth goes without its issues. 

Arthur darted up the stairs and swung the door open to the room where his queen currently resided, along with their newborn prince.

“Your Grace, we have to-” Arthur stopped in his tracks when his gaze locked on to the amount of blood that his queen was laying in. “What’s happening? Why are you not helping her? She is still bleeding!” Arthur yelled at the woman kneeling by the side of the bed. 

“Ser, we have done everything we can. But we cannot stop this bleeding. The birthing process has proved to be worse than we thought.” the woman answered him with a resigned look. 

Arthur strided forward and kneeled beside the woman who was placing a new wet towel against the queens forehead. He had seen a lot of blood in his life, which only pained him more now for he knew what this meant. She would never survive if she kept losing more blood. “Is there nothing you can do?” he desperately pleaded to the woman. 

“I’m sorry. None of us has such skill. We needed an maester, but I fear it is too late now.” she responded and stood up to leave him alone with his queen. Arthur dropped his head in resignation. 

“Arthur.” Lyanna said in a weak voice.

Arthur looked up to his queen. “Yes, your Grace.” he responded.

She managed a weak smile. “I think we are beyond titles now, my friend. You know I never liked them” she told him. Her dark hair clashing with her too pale skin. He knew she could not travel. She had to strain herself just to speak. So different from the wild girl he knew who was so full of life.  
“Arthur” she said again. Arthur held her gaze showing that he was listening intently. “I need you to take him. I need you to take my boy far from here. Take him to his father.” she told him.

“But what about you? We cannot leave you, your Grace. We promised the King that we would-”

“Arthur, please. I beg you. Take him and leave.” she told him desperately. “There is nothing I want more than to be with my son. To be part of his life. To be a mother to him.” She broke, trying to keep her tears at bay. Arthur had known her for some time, but he had never seen her so emotional. 

“We’ll take you with us. We’ll ride swiftly to the nearest maester and we will send word to the king and hide until he arrives.” he tried to convince her that it was not all lost. Or perhaps he tried to convince himself.

“Arthur, I can barely move. Please, I beg you.” Lyanna took his hand. She could barely lift it, but the she-wolf would not bend to weakness. “Please save him. I do not care for anything else, just save him. Please.” Her last words could barely be heard as they turned into a whisper. 

Arthur did not know what to say. What she said was true, she would never survive this. If she followed they would surely get caught. He simply nodded his head, showing that he understood. 

Gerold burst through the door. “Arthur, we need to-” he stopped when he noticed the scene. “Your Grace, I-”

Knowing that Lyanna was hanging on by a string, he spoke for her. “The queen will not be coming with us.” Arthur said with a pained look.

Gerold was quiet as he took a deep sigh of understanding. “We could-” he tried but Arthur interrupted him.

“She does not want to. We must take the prince and bring him to safety.” Arthur felt Lyanna gently tug at his hand that she was still holding. He turned his gaze back to his queen. His friend.

“I want to say goodbye” she said. Small tears falling from her eyes. Arthur nodded as he released her hand and stood up. He noticed that Gerold had left as he walked across the room to the little crib they had built in preparation for the coming child. When he looked down, he saw that the child was awake. So quiet one could mistake him for being asleep had he not had his eyes open. Arthur carefully took the child from his crib into his arms and brought him over to Lyanna. She could barely lift her arms so he laid the babe down onto her chest. She circled her arms around the child and brought it close to her.

“Hey, my little pup.” she said as she looked down to her son laying still in her arms. Arthur noticed that gone were the tears. Instead replaced with a determination he was used to see on her face. The wolf in her was still fighting. 

The babe looked up at his mother as he slowly brought up a hand to touch her chin. Lyanna’s whole face lit up by the gesture and managed an open smile. Arthur was wearing a sad smile watching a mother and her son’s last moment. When the babe dropped his hand she spoke again. “I know I wont be with you and you’ll probably not remember me” she paused. Gathering her strength and courage to say a few last words to her child. “But know that I love you. And wherever you are, I will be watching over you. Your father believes you to grow up to be something special, but I know that whatever you grow up to be, you will be a good man.” She gently started to caress his head.

“Arthur!” someone shouted from downstairs. He knew they had to leave now. Lyanna spared a glance at him before she returned her attention to her boy. “Goodbye, love. You will soon be with your father.” He could notice her last strength was fading. She could barely keep her eyes open. “I love you” she said to the child so quiet one could almost not hear.

Ser Gerold returned to the room, staying by the door. “Arthur! Riders are approaching from far away.” 

“I’m coming” he told him. Ser Gerold walked back out of the room. When his eyes returned to his queen she had her eyes closed. Babe still cradled in her arms. 

“Your Grace?” Arthur gently shook her shoulder. “Your Grace?” he tried again desperately. “Lyanna?”. There was no response from her. She looked peaceful with a faint smile on her face. A lone tear escaped Arthur’s eye as he realised she was gone. Flickers of seeing her spar with Rhaegar and himself filled his mind. “Rest well, dear wolf.” Arthur picked up the babe from her arms and cradled him in his. The babe had fallen asleep in his mother's arms. Arthur smiled down at him. “I will serve you well, my Prince.” he promised. Hearing from outside that the others were ready, he went to the door. Stopping halfway out, he looked back at his queen. With the exception of the blood, it seemed like she was resting peacefully. Arthur sniffed as he turned back and went down the stairs. 

Outside Ser Gerold and Oswelt were waiting on horses. “Our queen?” Oswell asked him. 

“She is resting now.” he told him. Oswelt fell into a deep frown, understanding the implication. 

“Riders are fast approaching from the north. Our path lies south.” Gerold stated.

Arthur stepped up on his horse with the babe in his embrace. When he was in place, he nodded to the two others. “Let’s go then” He said and then they kicked their horses forward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elia is not part of the story. Lyanna was Rhaegar's first and only wife.


	2. Grief

**_Rhaegar Targaryen I_ **

 

“Your Grace, if we do not sail now we’ll have to fight our way out of here when the rebels arrive. You must listen to me!” Connington tried to reason with him.

 

“I’m not leaving without my wife! Your queen.” Rhaegar reminded him. Anger clear in his voice.

 

“For all we know she could be in the hands of the rebels already.” Connington regretted his words when he saw the reaction on his king. “I’m sorry, your-” he tried.

 

“No. She is guarded by the finest men in the kingdom. They would not let any harm come to her. Soon they will send a raven and give us word about their whereabouts.” Rhaegar told him. He was currently standing in the map room, overlooking the beaches of Dragonstone. Dozen of ships were anchored in the sea, ready to be boarded. 

 

“Not even kingsguard can stand against an army. Not one that is driven by hate of Targaryens. I know this is not what you want to hear, but my allegiance lies with you and I will do everything I can to make sure you survive this.”

 

“And all that matters to me is her. I will NOT leave her here.” Rhaegar told him sternly. 

 

“What about your family? Your brother and your newborn sister. They are both without a mother. Don’t you care about them? Is their security not of any importance?”

 

His heart ached at the mention of his mother. It was a miracle that she had given birth to a healthy little girl. He had been with her as she cradled his newborn sister in her arms.  _ Daenerys _ she had named her. Born during the worst storm Westeros had seen in a long time. Though the winds and thunders were not his focus as his mother was leaning on the edge of death. It was a shock to many that she managed to stay alive for so long after the birth, but their joy did not last as she drew her final breath the day before. Rhaegar wanted to cry, but had to remain strong for his brother. Viserys was handling their mothers death as well as an eight-year-old boy would. 

 

“They will sail at dawn.” Rhaegar told him. He had seen to that they were packed and ready to go with short notice had it proved to be necessary.

 

“And you will stay here? To wait for the rebels to come and slay you?”

 

“I will go when I’ve got word from my wife and that’s the end of this conversation. If you have nothing else to discuss, I suggest you prepare for your journey.” 

 

“Your Grace?” Jon questioned.

 

“You will be travelling with my family to Essos at dawn. I trust you will take care of my brother and newborn sister while sailing and make sure they are safe when you arrive across the continent.”

 

Jon bowed his head in resignation. “As you wish.” He was on his way out when the doorway was blocked by the incoming master at arms. 

 

“Your Grace!” Ser Willem came marching across the room till he got to Rhaegar. “A message, from ser Arthur.” he told him.

 

Rhaegar hastily took the letter from his outstretched hand and ripped the seal open. He knew that he could trust Arthur to pull this through.

 

_ Your Grace _

 

_ Forgive me, for I bring ill news. Your wife gave birth to a boy, but did not survive the aftermath. I am sorry, there was nothing we could do to save her.  _ _  
_ _ We have the prince in safety, but we had to flee from the tower as our location had been compromised. We are currently hiding in the inn we used to frequent on our way through Dorne, awaiting your orders of how we shall proceed. _

 

_ I am truly sorry, my King _

 

__ Arthur Dayne _ _

 

  
  


Rhaegar could not breath as he reread the sentence over and over again.  _ She did not survive.  _ He hardly noticed as he fell back to the pillar behind him and his knees gave out. 

 

“Your Grace!” Ser Willem and Jon was at his side in an instant. 

 

Rhaegar was deaf to their words of concern.  _ Lyanna… _

 

He promised he would come back for her. 

 

Jon had picked up the fallen letter and read its contents. Afterwards he looked to Rhaegar with pity and sadness in his eyes. “Your Grace, the child lives. We must send word as soon as possible.” Rhaegar heard him, but could not process the words clearly as grim sadness overwhelmed him. He could feel his own heart break.

 

“Your Grace, look at me.” He managed to lift his head enough to look at his advisor. “I am sorry for your loss, but listen to me.” Rhaegar held his gaze as he listened with tears in his eyes. “The baby, your son, is still alive.” he said. His son, Lyanna’s babe. It wasn’t until then then that he fully understood. 

 

“My son.” he said. He had a child. 

 

_ A dragon, you say? You overestimate yourself, my love. He will be a wolf. _ That’s what she had called the babe as it grew inside her belly. Her wolf pup. 

 

“Rebel forces are coming this way, they cannot go here.” Ser Willem said, still kneeling beside him.

 

“We will send word for them to travel to Essos and we shall meet them there” Jon determined and looked to Rhaegar for approval.

 

Rhaegar merely nodded his approval, not being able to speak clearly as of yet. “I’ll write and send a raven.” Ser Willem said as he stood up to fetch an empty scroll and ink.

 

This was not supposed to happen. She was not supposed to die. He never should have left her to go to war. He should have been there with her, comforted her. Saved her.  _ Please let this be a dream _ , he prayed.  _ Please wake me up. _

 

Rhaegar noticed that Jon had stood up and was leaving him. He probably knew there was nothing he could do to comfort him. As the door behind him closed, Rhaegar burst into tears as his mind filled with promises he had not been able to keep. 

  
  
  
  


**_Arthur Dayne II_ **

 

Arthur could hear the prince starting to cry from where he was sitting. They had managed to flee the riders who were sent for them and rode for the closest inn they could find. Discarding their armour for farmers clothing, they managed to blend right in without waking too much problem. The company consisted of three kingsguard, a woman and their infant prince. Wylla was the woman's name he had come to learn. Gerold had told him that she was a wet nurse, sent to the tower by Rhaegar in hope that she could be of help to his dear Lyanna and her child. Sadly, no one could have suspected what would happen. Arthur knew that they had been so busy hiding from Aerys and his growing madness and then when he was dead, killed by the rebelling forces, there was a new king to hide from. The Targaryens were being hunted down and their mercy did not include sparing innocent children. Thinking of Rhaella, the dower queen, she would soon be having her babe as well. An ill time for Targaryens to be born.

 

Arthur watched as Wylla picked up the prince from where he was laying in his makeshift bed. “Hey hey, it’s okay” she said. “Are you hungry, hmm? Yes you are.” She talked to the babe as she sat on one of the beds in the room. Arthur smiled faintly as he turned his gaze back out the window, giving some privacy to Wylla as she fed the prince. Jaehaerys, that was what Lyanna had named him. The moment the babe was placed in her arms she had given him his name. Sadness filled him once again thinking of how she would never live to see him grow up. Trying to divert his thoughts towards something productive that wouldn’t leave him depressed, he thought of the next step for them. 

 

Being closest to their king, Arthur had taken the task to write to him. Writing that letter was one of the hardest things he had done in his life. How could you possible write to your best friend that his wife has died in childbirth? And it doesn’t stop at that. They were now on the run from the soldiers of the usurper, Tywin Lannister. The man who had been wronged one to many times by their previous king. Though he was hardly the only one. Aerys had managed to get almost every lord in the seven kingdoms against him. Arthur had long hoped that the king would find himself dead and give way for Rhaegar to take the throne. Seems he got what he hoped for, in the worst way possible. The iron throne was currently seated by another. Tywin may have had his reasons for his grunt against Aerys, but he was no saint either. 

 

Oswell came into the room. He took a chair from a nearby table and placed it next to Arthur. “No raven?” He asked as he sat down. 

 

“Not yet.” Arthur answered with a sigh. It had been three days since he had sent the letter. He wanted more time to write, to try put what had happened in respectable words, but there was no time for such. They needed to get word to Rhaegar as soon as possible. They would be on their way to Dragonstone, but since they do not yet know if that is safe, they decided to wait and hide. There was a high risk that Tywin had already sent troops to Dragonstone, making the trip there a death trap. Had it only been him and the kingsguard, they would probably have risked it. But now, they were travelling with something very valuable. No risks could be taken. 

“I don’t want to be bringer of ill thoughts, but have you thought about if Tywin and the rest of the rebels have already taken Dragonstone? They could have intercepted our message.” Oswell told him.

 

The thought did scare him. “I don’t believe they could have done it so quickly. But I have no doubt Dragonstone is their next target. If Tywin's goal is to exterminate the Targaryens, he will do so quickly. Considering our situation, there is no way Rhaegar plans to stay there and Tywin knows this. He will hit them fast and hard before they manage to escape.” Arthur explained.

 

“So where will they go?” Oswell asked.

 

“I don’t know, my friend. I only wish I knew what Rhaegar was planning. Though it seems we will have to wait for him to send word before we act.” Arthur said.

 

“You know we can’t stay here for much longer. Staying here for three days has left us vulnerable. They could be planning their attack any minute now.” Oswell continued giving words to his worries.

 

“I know, I share your fears. Word will come soon, I know it.” Arthur tried to convince him. 

 

Arthur looked back at Wylla and their prince and saw her putting him down to bed again. She sat down next to the babe and started humming a melody, probably hoping it would soothe him. “It will be alright” he said as he looked at Oswell. “We’ll make sure of it”.

  
  


**_Tywin Lannister I_ **

 

All the lords were gathered as he entered the throne room, leaving way for him to pass through the crowd. He kept his head high as he passed them all and walked up the short stairs that led to the iron throne. As he stood in front of the it, he turned and sat down before he began speaking.

 

“Our forces are soon to arrive at Dragonstone. The remaining Targaryen army is expected to be in few numbers, which will make the siege an easy task. Though I do not expect the Targaryens to remain there. Rhaegar knows he is outnumbered and will make the choice to flee.” he said.

 

“Yet we’ve got word that he has hidden the Stark girl in a place in Dorne.” he continued. “With her expecting his child, I do not doubt that he will do anything to get to her. Which is why a large riding party has been sent to track her down.”

 

The sooner they would get their hands on the Stark girl, the sooner he could use her as a way to lure Rhaegar out. It was the only way for him to rid the world of the Targaryens so that they may never try take it back. The Targaryen numbers were dwindling and would stay no match to the forces that has united against Aerys and his rule. Though one would be a fool to underestimate Rhaegar. Unlike his father, the people had love for him. If he were to flee, there was a risk that he would manage to gather enough forces to make a stand. 

 

He knew Rhaegar, he had spent a great deal of time with him as hand of the king. Rhaegar was not one to lose his temper easily and preferred his books to his swords, but he was still a Targaryen. Tywin knew his history well. Fire and blood runs deep in the Targaryen veins. He would have to put out their fire one by one. 

 

More discussion followed concerning the war and its consequences for those involved. Some lords seeked to expand their land after many Targaryen loyalists had fallen in battle, while others desired more power as a new rule was in the process of being established.

 

Tywin sneered at them. The sheep were greedy now that they believed things had changed for them. Many lords had grown to be overconfident. He would have to make sure they knew their place, for there was only one legacy that mattered to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First two chapters are setups for the story


	3. Remembrance

**_Arthur Dayne III_ ** ****__  
  


“How long is he gonna take? I mean is he taking a piss or something. Or has he finally decided that this life is too much for him and went to find a woman to live out his last days with.”

 

Arthur just stared at Oswell with his eyebrows raised in amusement. “That was oddly specific. Is that what you think he is doing, or is that what  _ you _ want to be doing?” Arthur asked with a smirk.

 

Gerold had taken his time. He left them shortly after they finished eating at a small inn they had found near the port in Sunspear. Gerold had told them to stay put while he went and found a sailor. They needed one who was skillful enough to ensure a safe passage to Essos, but not one prone to ask too many questions. It had been a weary journey as they were escorting their infant prince. They had to make sure he was well, for he was still very young to be handling long journeys. Especially one as riskful as theirs. 

 

“Pfft, you think I would rather seek out a woman's touch than to spend my merry days with you lot? Ridiculous I say.” Oswell answered, faux offended. 

 

Arthur sniggered as he glanced over the table at Wylla and the prince. He was sleeping soundly in her arms.

 

“You mean to say you have never thought about it?" Oswell asked. "I bet you could get all kind of girls who want a taste of the sword that rises in the morning”

 

Arthur turned to Oswell who sat across to him next to Wylla and stared at him blankly. Oswell stared back, mimicking Arthur. Neither of them managed to keep the mask very long until they both burst out in laughter. They tried to keep it quiet to not draw too much attention to themselves, neither doing too well of a job.

 

“That,” Arthur started but paused trying to suppress his laughter. “Has to be the worst joke I have ever heard.”

 

“You must have bad humor then, since I finally made you laugh.”

 

“You’re an idiot.”

 

“You wound me, my dear friend. You would miss me had we been away from each other too long.”

 

“I wouldn’t know. It seems I never manage to shake you off.”

 

Oswell grinned and shot Arthur a wink as he took a sweep of his drink. They both drank water. None of them had allowed themselves any alcohol in a while now. Nowadays, their duty never stopped. Always on their watch they were. It was rare for them to find a bright moment in their days recently. The mood in the company had been somber ever since they had to leave the tower. The grief of the their queen’s death weighed heavy on their minds.

  
  


After some time, Gerold returned and sat down next to Arthur. “There is a ship that sails in the morning. I’ve spoken to its captain and we have agreed on a reasonable price. I offered a bit extra for added accomodation” he said as he gestured toward the Prince. “I’ll say we lay low here until morning. Not a lot of people in here to spot us”. He was right. There was only four others in the inn who it seemed couldn’t care less about them. 

 

While they waited, Gerold and Oswell started reminiscing about their previous visits to Sunspear. Arthur sat and listened and joined in a couple of times, but mostly it was stories he had already heard. Instead he glanced at Wylla as he often did. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust her. He just felt a strong need to have an eye at the prince at all times. He may have a duty to protect this child, but this was also his best friends son. This went beyond duty and deep into personal. Three nights ago, when Arthur couldn’t find any rest, he had sat by the bed where their prince was sleeping. He gazed at the wisps of dark hair that adorned his head and thought of the grey eyes he knew where there behind those eyelids. Not a sign of Rhaegar he thought. No this child was all stark in his appearance. 

 

He swore a vow that night silently. A vow that no matter what, as long as he could move and fight, he would protect him. He knew in his heart that this boy could be their salvation. Of course he had heard his friend talk about the prophecies. Rhaegar had literally drowned himself in those. Though that did not hold any meaning to him. Arthur had always been a practical man, not one devoted to the religious teachings nor the spiritual. Yet as he looked at the boy, he thought that he saw something. A meaning. 

  
  


Wylla had noticed his staring. Arthur smiled and thought about how little he actually knew about her. He had never really inquired when he had so much on his mind. He felt a tiny bit ashamed of himself for not having gotten to know her since they had been spending so much time with each other. He and the others were often so wrapped up amongst themselves that they hadn’t fully appreciated her help with the Prince. It’s thanks to her feeding and taking care of him that he is still alive. “I’ve never asked you how you came to be in the King’s service.” he said. 

 

Wylla smiled faintly. “His Grace used to frequent the orphanages in King’s Landing. When he was last in the capital, before he went into battle, he had visited and asked if I could be of assistance to him.” The Prince was beginning to move in her arms and she gently shushed him and tried to rock him back to sleep. She smiled sheepishly at Arthur and continued where she left off but in a quieter tone as to not rouse the Prince. “I told him that I would gladly help him in any matter. He had always been so generous to us. Visiting and playing with the children. You should hear the talk after he leaves. The children were all so excited that the Prince had given them a spare of his time.” Arthur noticed that she had grown a sad smile at the mention of the children.

 

“Do you have a family waiting for you back in King’s Landing?” he asked. Figuring she was reminiscing of her own children. She was quite pretty, surely she would have managed to find herself a good husband. 

 

Wylla’s eyes fell to the table as the sad smile grew sadder. “I lost my child not long before his Grace came to me.” she said. Arthur grew still at the revelation. 

 

“I’m sorry.” he said. 

 

He noticed her eyes were watery as she gently shook her head. “It’s alright. Such is the burden of having children. Even if you get pregnant, there is always a risk that the babe will never get to see the light of day.” she paused. “I know the queens death is still a sore subject to you. But if I had to choose between my life and the chance of giving birth to a child, I would have chosen Lyanna’s fate everytime.”

 

Arthur was quiet as he listened. He could never imagine a mothers pain losing a child. As a member of the kingsguard, he had swore a vow to never marry or father children. He will never experience what it is to be a father. Not that it mattered to him. But who knows, perhaps he had only delusioned himself that it did not matter. Though such thoughts were meaningless. A kingsguard’s duty was for life. His choice had already been made.

 

“There is still time” Arthur said. “When we are finished here and the Prince is safe with his father, you can return. Return home to your husband and-” Arthur stopped when he noticed he had hit another sore spot.

 

Wylla was quiet for a bit until she found the strength to speak. “My husband died six months before I lost my girl. The fever took him.”

 

Arthur did not know what to say. He tried to think of anything that would be of any comfort, but what was there really. Nothing he said or did could make any difference. 

 

They were both quiet for some time. Arthur looking at the Prince in her arms and she was seemingly in another world. He had probably woken too many memories for one night. “Thank you.” he said. Wylla met his gaze and Arthur tried to converse his deep appreciation through his eyes. “For taking care of our Prince.”

 

She just smiled at him and returned her attention to the babe in her arms as he began to rouse once again. 

  
  
  


They woke early in the morning, packed and ready to go. The breakfast went by quick and then they were on their way to the port. Arthur walked behind Wylla who was carrying their Prince. He knew in his heart that she would die protecting that babe just as much as he would. Children meant everything to her. 

 

When they arrived at the port, Gerold told them to stay behind as he went and talked to the captain. While they waited, he noticed that Oswell stood tense as if he had seen something. “Oswell, what is it?” he asked. Oswell’s eyes were scanning the area methodically. Arthur tried to follow his gaze but saw nothing. There were people at the nearby market that was busy with their shop, fishermen who had finished the early fishing for the day and others who were probably on their way to work. 

 

“I get the feeling that we are being watched” Oswell told him. Arthur looked around and tried to find anyone suspicious, but couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary.

 

“I don’t see anyone.” Arthur said. 

 

Oswell’s eyes kept gazing towards a spot between two buildings. Arthur couldn’t see what it was that had grabbed his attention. 

 

“All is ready, the ship sails soon. We should board it and find ourselves a place to occupy.” Gerold said as he returned to them. Arthur glanced to Gerold and nodded, confirming that he had heard. He looked back to Oswell and tried once again to see something that obviously had grabbed his attention.

 

Oswell then shook his head and turned to Arthur. “Probably my imagination” he said, unconvincingly, and went to follow Wylla and Gerold to board the ship. Arthur stayed and did a last scan of the area. When he still couldn’t see anything, he followed the rest to the ship. A strong feeling of unease settling itself in him. 

  
  
  


**_Rhaegar Targaryen II_ **

 

_ You think you could beat me? I promise you, you will regret this. _

 

_ I’ll take the risk, wolf.  _

 

_ Lyanna grinned wickedly as she kicked her horse forwards and darted away in blinding speed. He followed her with the best of his abilities as he chased her through the woods, actively avoiding branches and jumping over tree stumps that lay in the way.  _

 

_ You are falling behind! She called back to him.  _

 

_ They cleared the woods and came upon a large field.  _

 

_ He managed to catch up to her, or perhaps she had let him. _

 

_ She looked back at him with the biggest smile. Her long hair flowing in the wind. She was beautiful. _

  
  


“Your Grace?”

 

The memory quickly fading away as Illyrio called to him. He hadn’t noticed him entering the room, too caught up in the past. Rhaegar stood on a balcony, that was connected to one of the common room in Illyrio's palace, and gazed over the sea. He turned to greet his host who had allowed him and his family to stay. He also housed the majority of his soldiers. It’s a favour he does not yet know how to repay. 

 

“Magister.” Rhaegar acknowledged. 

 

“Forgive me if I disturbed you, your Grace.” Illyrio said as he came to join him on the balcony. 

 

“Don’t worry. My mind was… somewhere else.” Rhaegar answered.

 

“Ah, a bad or happy place?” Illyrio asked.

 

_ You can’t catch me! She said as she laughed while he chased her.  _ “Happy.” Rhaegar answered, wearing a longing look. 

 

Illyrio nodded in understanding. 

 

“I know this is soon, but have you given it any thought about your next plan?” Illyrio asked.

 

“Next plan?” Rhaegar asked quizzical. 

 

“You say you haven’t thought of taking back the iron throne, your home?”

 

“No, Magister. I don’t see how that would be possible. This is not just Tywin Lannister we are speaking of. Lords from nearly all the seven kingdoms chose to take up arms against my father and their hatred for him extends to us, his family.”

 

“Not all of the seven kingdoms. I’ve heard that the north did not participate in the rebellion.”

 

“They chose not to in favour of my wife. The Stark family did not hold any love for my father, but neither did they take up arms against him. The Starks remained in the north. I don’t suppose they knew to what extent Tywin was going with the rebellion.” He wondered if they knew that the usurper had sent soldiers after her son.

 

“I imagined the Starks would stand by your side.”

 

“I don’t believe it could have been an easy choice for Rickard Stark. He could either help the rebellion, or help stop it. My father saw traitors everywhere. Those who were far away from him and those who were the closest to him. Soon after ending Tywin’s service as hand of the king, he turned his suspicions towards the north. Why, I can’t say. The Starks and the Targaryens were already bound by marriage. My marriage. When he started to look strangely at Lyanna, I had confronted him about it. He told me the Starks were planning to gain more power and that’s the reason they had let me marry her.” Rhaegar paused.

 

“Things grew worse from then on. I decided that she was no longer safe in the capital and therefore fled. It was a lose-lose situation for the Starks. They could join the Rebellion and risk the lives of my family that Lyanna was now part of, or they could join my father and defend the man who had thought them traitors and driven Lyanna from King’s Landing.”

 

“War is never easy.” Illyrio responded. “Though it does not have to be over.”

 

“It does. My family has suffered enough. I do not have the men nor the resources. And I have lost too much already.” Rhaegar said, sadly.

 

“Is that it then? The end of a dynasty.”

 

“It is, I fear.”

 

The discussion seemingly over, Rhaegar thought it would be time to see to his family. He bid Illyrio goodbye and went on to the west wing of the palace that currently housed the Targaryens. 

 

Illyrio’s palace was a structure of beauty. Carved from the finest white marble, the property was large and spacious. He passed the door to his room and went down the hall where he would find little Daenerys. As he entered the room, he spotted one of her wet nurses holding her as she tried to rock her to sleep. Rhaegar met her gaze and smiled. “How is she?” he asked.

 

“Strong as ever, your Grace. Though she does not seem to want to sleep.” she answered.

 

“A common trait amongst Targaryens babes, I fear. Too wild they are, it is said.” Rhaegar walked over to where the wet nurse stood and watched his sister. It did not seem as if she thought to be quiet anytime soon. “May I?” he said as he gestured towards his sister. 

 

“Of course” the wet nurse said as she gently handed over the child to Rhaegar. 

 

“Hey, little girl. I heard you don’t want to sleep.” he talked to his sister in a low gentle voice. He walked over with her to the window overlooking the sea and sat at the edge. “There now. You want to hear a song?” He took her silence as a yes. And so he started to sing to her. It was a song that he had heard his mother sing when Viserys was just born. After some time, when she had finally gone to sleep, Rhaegar just looked down on her. His mind drifting away to Arthur and his kingsguard who were probably on their way here now, carrying his son. His and Lyanna’s child. A tear escaped from his eye. The memories of her keeps surfing up and everytime he feels as if he is dying. 

 

He does not want it to be real. He wants to wake up and find it all to be a dream. Next to him Lyanna would be sleeping and he would move his hand through her hair and kiss her on the shoulder. She would wake up from the gesture and pull him down for a slow kiss. As the sleepiness would drain from her she would push him on his back and bring their bodies so close to each other as to not leave any space between them. That was how many of the mornings started when they were at the tower. 

 

Lyanna never got used to the confinement of the capital, so when they arrived in Dorne, some of the spirit that she had lost in Kings Landing came surging back to her. The tower of joy they called it. He never should have left. 

 

_ What now, wolf? Seems like you are trapped.  _

 

_ Oh you think you got the better of me? This was my plan all along. _

 

_ She pulled him down to bring her lips to meet his. It ended too soon as she pulled back and ducked under his arms.  _

 

_ Don’t think I’m that easy, she said as he straddled her horse. _

 

_ I don’t. Though you should know, I will chase you forever. _

 

_ She looked back at him with the most beautiful grey eyes. _

 

_ That’s all I ever wanted, she told him. _

 

Rhaegar stood up from where he sat and went over to the little crib and gently laid her down. “Goodnight, little sister.”

  
  
  


**_Tywin Lannister II_ **

 

“Come in”

 

Varys came in and bowed. “Your Grace. I might have some information of importance to you.”

 

Tywin put down the paper he had been reading and gestured for the Spider to sit across him at his desk. “Well?” he said. 

 

“One of my little birds tells me that the Kingsguard you have been searching for are sailing for Essos as of now.”

 

Tywin leaned forward slightly. The Spider had caught his attention. “The child is with them?” he asked.

 

“Indeed, the child is with them.” Varys answered.

 

Tywin fell into deep thought. He then stood up and walked to the window and looked out on the city of King’s Landing. “I have a task for you, spider.”

 

“I live to serve, your Grace.”

 

“Send word for any sellswords you know of in Essos and have them placed in the ports that they are most likely to arrive in. Tell them that they will be greatly rewarded if they bring the child here, alive and unharmed. Also let them know to bring proof of the child's identity.”

 

“The child is guarded by three kingsguard. All of them battle hardened and undefeated in combat. They will not fall easily.” Varys told him.

 

“So hire more men.”


	4. Valar Morghulis

**_Arthur Dayne IV_ **

 

The winds had been cruel to them. As they had almost crossed the Narrow sea, a storm turned up and caused sustaining damage to the ship. To avoid getting stuck at sea or worse, the Captain sailed for a port that was closer to them.

 

Before they had set sail, Gerold had sent a raven to the King informing him where they expected to lay anchor when they would eventually arrive in Essos. At the port, a royal escort would be expecting the incoming Prince so that they could bring him to his father safely. Though, Arthur wouldn’t put it past the King if he stood there himself and awaited them. Not that it mattered now, the port where they had lay anchor was miles south of where they planned. There would be no royal escort waiting for them, no. 

 

“We’re here, my little Prince.” Wylla said to the child she had in her arms. “It won't be long now until you will be with your father.” 

 

On the ship, Arthur along with Wylla and the Prince waited to disembark. Gerold and Oswell had already gone in advance to make sure that it was safe for them to come. It was a first time for all of them crossing the Narrow Sea as none of them had set a foot in Essos before. It was unfamiliar territory, something that did not lay well with Arthur. When Gerold raised his hand, signalling for them to come, they finally disembarked the ship. As Arthur stepped onto land for the first time in a while, he felt a weight lift upon his shoulders. They had managed to get to Essos with the Prince safe and in good health. 

 

“Anyone got any idea what our next plan is?” Oswell asked.

 

“We should probably find a place to stay the night. The sun is going down and darkness will be upon us soon.” Gerold said.

 

“We should inform the King of our situation. Perhaps it is better for us to wait for them here.” Arthur said. 

 

“Indeed. I say we start moving now, I rather not walk blindly through these streets in the dark.” Gerold stated.

 

The port they had arrived on lay close to a small town. The amount of fishing boats and nets along the coast made Arthur believe they were primarily fishers who lived here. As they walked along the streets Oswell pointed out a tavern. He thought it to be a good idea to see if they had any rooms for hire. They agreed and went in and walked over to the bartender. Turned out they did not, but he directed them to an inn that would be suitable for them across the town. 

 

“It will be nice to find sleep in a real bed. The sea has never been well with me.” Oswell said as they walked along the streets. The night was dark and the only visible light came from the moon which stood up high. 

 

“Didn’t you get enough sleep on our way here? It seemed every time I looked over to you your eyes were shut.” Arthur said teasingly.

 

“Just because my eyes are shut, does not mean that I was sleeping.”

 

“You were snoring.”

 

“Like a pig.” Gerold cut in.

 

Oswell answered with a undignified grunt.

 

“The youthful needs their sleep. I believe our Prince can agree to that.”

 

Arthur glanced at Wylla who walked beside him and indeed the Prince was sleeping in her embrace.

 

“Youthful? Brother mine, how old do you think you are?” Gerold asked him, humor clear in his voice.

 

“Younger than you, old man.” Oswell said with a smile. Gerold just laughed.

 

“Younger, dumber and have yet to beat said old man in combat.”

 

“Oh you don’t think I can beat you? Not everyone needs a nickname to be considered a great warrior. I am more humble than the likes of you. The White Bull and the Sword in the morning, seven hells, who came up with those names?” Oswell said.

 

Arthur looked to Gerold. “That sounds like the words of a jealous boy.”

 

“Boy? You calling me boy now huh, brother mine?” Oswell said with a undignified look. 

 

“I thought you wanted a nickname. Besides you were just clarifying that you were clearly much younger than us, even comparing yourself to our infant Prince.” Arthur said. 

 

Arthur and Gerold started to laugh at Oswell’s expanse. He knew Oswell had a smile on his face, though he tried hard not to show it. In all the years that Arthur had known him, he had always been the one to bring light to situations. He didn’t mind being the butt of a joke. Most of the times he was setting himself up for it. Arthur had never said it, but it was one of many things he admired about his brother. Oswell never concerned himself with what others thought of him, all that mattered was that those around him felt safe. He was a great knight and a true friend. 

 

“Shouldn’t be too far now.” Gerold said after a while. As they came to a certain part of the town most of the houses around them seemed unlived in, or at least been empty for some time. They intercut to a wide alley, hoping they would come across to the right part of the town. 

 

Arthur tensed up as he heard footsteps coming from behind. “We are being followed.” he said as he swiftly turned around and spotted seven to eight men coming at them, all of them armed with swords.

 

“Arthur.” Gerold said. Arthur glanced back at him and saw that there were almost as many coming from the other side of the alley. They were trapped. He could hear Wylla from next to him start panicking.

 

“Stay calm.” He told her. “Stay behind us. We will protect you.” Arthur took off the large cloak he had been wearing, revealing the fine blade sheathed at his hips. Almost simultaneously the three kingsguard drew their swords. Pale as milkglass, his sword  _ Dawn  _ glistened in the moonlight. 

 

“Arthur. You take the south path, we take the north.” Gerold told him. The men were slowly closing in on them, preparing to strike. “Protect our Prince!” Gerold yelled as the first men attacked. The men on Arthur’s side went for him as well. 

 

The man closest came running with his sword above his head, ready to strike. Arthur parried the blow to the side and then came up to pierce him. The blade went through the attackers body so Arthur brought his foot up to kick the body away and thereby getting the sword loose. The body flew to the second attacker, distracting him while Arthur went for the third. He ducked, thus avoiding the killing blow and brought his sword up in a upward swing, slicing the attacker in half.

 

The man who got his friend thrown at him had gotten up and was ready to attack again as the fourth man came at Arthur the same time. He blocked their incoming blows and managed to cut the second man’s hands, making him drop his sword. Arthur then swung his sword to the right, blocking the blow from the fourth man and swiftly cut across his chest when the man couldn’t protect himself. The remaining three was on him immediately and was trying with all their might to hit him. None of them managed as Arthur skillfully avoided their blows and made them stumble on each other. 

 

The men didn’t last long as they were brutally cut down by Arthur’s blade. One, two and three they all went down. With the last one Arthur had swung his blade with such force that the man couldn’t manage to block the blade as it came across his throat. Arthur gazed as the man’s head fell off and toppled to the ground. 

 

With adrenaline pumping in his body, he looked back to his brothers to see if they needed help. He turned in time to see Oswell plunge his sword into a man’s chest. Withdrawing the sword from the attacker, the body fell heavy to the ground. 

 

Arthur then looked to Wylla and the Prince. She was glued to the wall, holding the prince protectively. “Everyone alright?” He asked the group.

 

“We’re fine.” Gerold said. 

 

“This was no robbery.” Oswell said. “No one would bring so many men to rob a group as small as ours. They knew who we were.”

 

Arthur looked around and saw all the bodies they had left behind. The alley was filled with almost twenty dead men and the blood that still poured out of their wounds. It looked like exactly what is was, a slaughter.

 

Gerold nodded. “They were after the Prince.” he stated.

 

“Tywin must have sent these men.” Arthur said.

 

“Coward.” Oswell spat. 

 

“Are you alright?” Gerold asked Wylla. She was still in shock at what had happened. The only response they got from her was a shaky nod. The Prince had been crying ever since the fight started and did not seem to stop.

 

“We must leave. Now.” Oswell told them. 

 

Behind him someone came out of the corner. 

 

“Oswell!” Arthur yelled, but it was too late. Oswell gasped as he winced violently and fell to to his knees. A crossbow bolt lodged in his back.

 

It all happened so fast. Multiple men came from the corner and into the alley. Men armed with crossbows took aim and fired at them. Gerold moved as fast as he could to protect the Prince but fell when a bolt found its way to his leg. Arthur could barely register what happened as something hit him in the chest with such strong force that he fell back. Wylla screamed and started to run from the attackers but couldn’t even get passed Arthur as a bolt found its way to her thigh and she fell to the ground, arms protectively embracing the Prince. 

 

_ This could not be happening. _

 

Gerold was pushing himself to stand up and was met with three armed men. Arthur watched helplessly as he battled them all at once, bolt still stuck in his thigh. Wylla, who lay a few feet away from him, crawled towards the side with the Prince in her arms.  _ They are after the Prince. _ Arthur gathered all the strength he had to push himself to his feet to get to the Prince when a second bolt found its way to his leg. The pain and the loss of balance had Arthur stumbling to his knees. 

 

Gerold was still fighting. Four, perhaps five men lay dead at his feet. But they were too many. Four against one and they managed to get a slice on the leg he kept his balance on. Both legs wounded and Gerold too fell to his knees and was met with two blades gutting him. A third man swung at his head and sliced it open, finishing his brother off. Blood sputtering onto the street. 

 

They were fifteen, perhaps twenty men, still standing and coming towards him. He saw Wylla from the corner of his eye managing to stand up and start running away with the Prince in her arms, when one of the men raised his crossbow. Arthur wanted to scream, but the only thing that came from his mouth was blood. The bolt flung through the air and hit Wylla in the lower back. He saw as she fell to the ground not far from him, arms bracing the fall for the Prince. 

 

Raised voices could be heard. “Fool! We need the child alive!” 

 

Arthur looked back at the man who spoke and saw that he was standing before him. “Last man standing. Or rather kneeling.” the man said. The rest of the men grew to a halt behind their presumed leader. The only thing that stood between them and the Prince was Arthur. And he could not even raise his arms without the bolt in his chest grinding something terribly inside of him, leaving in him agonizing pain. 

 

“They said you would be tough, great warriors even. I had almost hoped for a better challenge. Do you know how much they are willing to pay for that child?” When he noticed Arthur wouldn’t answer, or perhaps he didn’t care for an answer, he took it upon himself. “A fortune. Must be some child, huh.” When he didn’t gather any response from Arthur, he decided to quick things up.

 

“It’s just business, my friend.” he said to Arthur, who was glancing at Wylla as she lay deadly still. The Prince’s cries echoing through the alley as he lay in her arms. He had failed. His brothers laid dead and he himself was dying. The bolt in his chest had made it terribly hard for him to even breath as he started to panic. These men would take the child. The very child he had sworn to protect.

 

_ Do you, Ser Arthur of House Dayne, solemnly swear to protect the King from all threat and harm _

_ To protect the King’s family at all cost _

_ To serve the King to your utmost ability _

_ To keep the King’s secrets _

_ To never marry, nor father children _

_ To fight in the King’s name and honour _

_ And if the time comes, to lay down your life for your King _

 

The leader turned to his men. “Take the child and finish this one off.” He said as he glanced at Arthur. “I expected more of you. The way you cut my men down. It seems even great warriors dies like ordinary men.” 

 

Two men passed him to go grab the Prince. Arthur glanced down at the ground and saw his discarded blade by the foot of the leader. He then turned his head to the men approaching the dead body of Wylla and the Prince who cried out in fear. Even in the dark Arthur could see the Grey eyes of Lyanna Stark shine through her son’s eyes. The wolf who fought death till her dying breath.

 

_ I do _

 

Arthur forced words out of his mouth.

 

The leader turned to Arthur. “What was that?”

 

“Valar Morghulis” Arthur spat.

 

The leader laughed. “Indeed. Finish him” he said as he went to turn away. Arthur could see the shadow of the man standing behind him with his sword raised high, ready to strike. With all the strength he had left, Arthur pushed himself up with his uninjured leg and back into the executioner. The man fell and Arthur darted for  _ Dawn _ which lay on the ground close to him, the blade still shined in the moonlight as he gripped it. The leader had turned to him and before he could do anything, Arthur swung the blade up and across his body, almost slicing him in half. 

 

The rest of the attackers pulled their blade and went to strike him down. Arthur grabbed the sword from the man he had pushed back as he took a defensive stance, two swords in his hands. They were on him fast, yet Arthur blocked all incoming blows and used their numbers to his advantage. There were only so many that could attack a single person without accidently cutting one of their own. 

 

The pain in his chest from the crossbow bolt was blinding and made it unbearable to breath. The bolt in his leg made very step he took feel like knives were twisting in his muscle. Still he fought them all. One, two, three they fell down. Four, five, six and the blood painted the ground red as it flew from cut off limbs and open wounds. Seven, eight, nine they all fell equally brutal. The more who fell, the more their courage lessened. 

 

Arthur spun and sliced them open. He parried and followed it up with dangerous blows. He felt himself take a blow to the waist, but that did not stop him. It did not even slow him down. His fate was already decided. It had been decided the day he swore his Kingsguard vows, the night he silently swore to protect his Prince to his dying breath. 

 

There were so few men left. They did not even have the time to think about fleeing as Arthur danced between them with his blades slicing and cutting them down.

 

There were two left. One in front of him and one behind him. He managed to disarm the first one and flung his sword across the alley and followed the move by stabbing him in the gut. Arthur felt a knife pierce through his back. Arthur kicked back at the last man so that the attacker fell to the ground. Not caring about the knife protruding out of his back, just like he stopped caring about the bolts stuck in his chest and thigh. Arthur limped over to the fallen man and threw himself down on him with both his blades first as they pierced the chest of the man who stabbed him.

 

He could hear the screams of pain slowly starting to fade as the man beneath him died. Arthur was half straddling the body, the grip on his swords, that was attached to the man’s chest, holding him up. He looked around and was met with a bloodbath. Bodies piled up in heaps, limbs and heads stacked. 

 

Arthur glanced over at Wylla’s dead body and the Prince who lay in her arms crying. With the last of his strength fading, Arthur’s eyes fell shut as he rolled down onto the ground. 

 

As his body shut down from his wounds, he heard the sound of his Prince’s cries echo throughout the alley.


	5. The Awakening

**_Rhaegar Targaryen III_ **

 

“Your Grace, they are here.”

 

Rhaegar stood with his back to Illyrio and looked out the opening of the balcony. They were in one of the common rooms in Illyrio’s palace which had acted as a meeting room since they moved in. He had spent most of his time here the last couple of weeks, looking out at the sea. Gazing at the waves and the gentle flow of the sea, hoping it would calm the brewing storm inside him. It did nothing to stop the fear and anxiety he felt, nor the overwhelming grief that had filled his soul.

 

He had barely slept nor ate for some time. The few moments of sleep that he did have was plagued with nightmares. He had been absent from his siblings, not even visiting the little Daenerys. He knew Viserys looked for him, needed someone to comfort him. He was still so young and had just lost his mother, yet Rhaegar could not find it in him to be there for his brother. What could he offer him except for more pain and grief. Perhaps not pain. The recent events had left him numb and unresponsive. Nothing mattered to him anymore except for the last bit of truth. 

 

Rhaegar sensed that Illyrio walked up and stood beside him. There was a sword draped in cloth in his hands. “The sword, as you requested.” Illyrio said.

 

Rhaegar turned to him and took the draped sword. He then slowly unwrapped it, dreading whatever was hidden beneath. He was met with a blade so pale it looked as if it were made of milkglass, yet durable as any valyrian steel. Rhaegar tightened his grip around the hilt of the sword as grief flooded him. There was only one reason he was holding the famous blade of House Dayne. His best friend was dead. 

 

Rhaegar looked up to Illyrio. “Bring him in.” he said emotionlessly. Illyrio nodded and went to the door, signalling for the guards to bring the prisoner in. 

 

Rhaegar looked down at the blade again. Remembering the times he had sparred with Arthur as his friend wielded this very sword. There would be no more sparring anymore. 

 

The guards entered the room, escorting the prisoner. Rhaegar looked up at the man from where he stood at the other side of the room. The man had a fresh scar running from the top of his mouth to the other side of his chest and was missing half his right arm. 

 

The prisoner squirmed in the guards hold as Rhaegar approached him,  _ Dawn _ still clutched in his hand as if he tried to draw strength from it. He only stopped when he stood face to face with the sellsword. “I will ask you some questions and you will answer me. If you do not, I will make sure that you will change your mind.” He said as he looked the man straight into his eyes. 

 

“Is that understood?” Rhaegar asked. Barely able to hold the growing fury in him at bay.

 

The captured sellsword continued to squirm. “What is it you want? I have done nothing against you!” he said, anxiety clear in his voice.

 

Rhaegar’s face twisted in anger. “Nothing? You have done everything to deserve whatever beating and torture I will put you through to get the information I want.” he said as his eyes bore into the the sellsword, conveying that he meant every word. 

 

The man looked frightened, but tried poorly to hide it. When he didn’t receive any answer from him, Rhaegar continued.

 

“A few weeks ago you were found in a pile of dead bodies. Tell me what happened there.”

 

The prisoner panicked and his eyes darted across the room, looking for an escape.

 

Rhaegar’s hand shot forward to grip the sellsword by his throat, forcing the man to look at him. “Look at me! Tell me what happened there.”

 

“It was just a job! We were to track down a group of men and a woman carrying a child. They were to arrive by ship and we waited for them.”

 

“What happened in that alley?”

 

When the sellsword was too slow to answer, Rhaegar tightened his grip around the man’s throat. “Answer me!”

 

“We trapped them! We were told they were great warriors and would be hard to kill. So we brought all of our men and shot them down. One of them would not die and when we were about to execute him, he flung off from the ground and slaughtered us. A sword in each hand and he fought like nothing I had ever seen before. Like a demon possessed.”

 

_ Arthur _ , Rhaegar thought. 

 

“What about the child?” Rhaegar asked, his words filled with anxiety. Emotions had finally returned to him after weeks of numbness.

 

The prisoner tried to gulp but proved hard with Rhaegar’s hand still around his throat. “I don’t know. We shot the woman down. I last saw the child in her arms.”

 

The more he heard, the more the anger in Rhaegar grew. “The woman was found dead, but there was no child with her. Tell me, where is the child!” Rhaegar yelled.

 

“I don’t know!” The man could barely speak as Rhaegar’s grip around his throat tightened once more. “We were to kill the men and take the baby! I don’t know what happened.” he continued with great effort.

 

“You lie. Tell me!” Rhaegar yelled at the man as he now strangled the sellsword.

 

“Your Grace!” Jon called, who had walked over to him and put a hand on his shoulder. “You are killing him.” he said. 

 

Rhaegar did not look back at Jon, but merely let go of his grip on the man. He then turned his back to the sellsword, not being able to look at him any longer without feeling the rage inside him grow stronger. In its stead, grief flooded his mind and heart.  _ His child was gone. His son. His and Lyanna’s son. _

 

Jon left Rhaegar where he stood with his back turned and walked over to the sellsword. 

  
  


_ Rhaegar? _

 

_ Rhaegar looked up from where he sat and came eye to eye with Lyanna. _

 

_ He smiled at her, but she looked scared. _

 

_ What is it, love? _

 

_ He stood up and went over to her and brought a hand up to move through her hair. _

 

_ She looked up at his face with both love and a hint of fear in her eyes. _

 

_ I’m pregnant, she said. _

 

_ Rhaegar stood still as he processed the words. He looked down at her belly and gently placed a hand there. _

 

_ Then a smile took over his face as he picked Lyanna up in his arms and spun her in a circle. _

 

_ Both of them laughing with joy. _

  
  


“Who sent you? Who paid for this mission?” Jon asked the sellsword.

 

“A westerosi. A man named Tywin Lannister.”

 

Rhaegar’s memory faded, replaced with the image of Tywin. The grip he had on  _ Dawn _ tightened.

 

_ Tywin sent them. Tywin took our son. The last I had of Lyanna he had taken from me. Tywin has taken everything from me. _

 

_ My mother _

 

_ My wife _

 

_ My son _

 

The sellsword continued to speak. “It was just a child, alright? If the child was taken by us, it would probably be dead now. We don’t care for children, we only wanted to get paid. Just go make another with some-” The sellsword never got to finish his words as Rhaegar turned and pierced the man’s throat with the sword in his hand. Blood sprayed out of him and covered Rhaegar’s face along with the guard’s who let go of their hold of the prisoner. Jon also stepped back in shock.

 

The sellsword dropped to his knees as blood spilt from his mouth. The man looked up at Rhaegar in panic for a few seconds until his eyeballs fell back and he dropped to the floor. Blood washing the rich tiles that decorated the floor.

 

Everyone in the room stared at Rhaegar in shock. 

 

Rhaegar stood still as he breathed heavy, his gaze down at the now dead body on the floor. Rage filled him to his core.  _ They took everything from me. My last link to Lyanna, gone.  _

 

He looked up and met Jon’s eyes. He was still shocked with a hint of fear featured on his face.

 

With blood dripping from his face, Rhaegar spoke “He will pay.” he said, malice clear in his voice. “He will pay for what he has done. With fire and blood, I will kill him.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so the intro to the story has come to its end. The next couple of chapters will involve the story of what happened to Jaehaerys (Jon) and Daenerys. That is to say, they will become the main focus.  
> Long time jumps between chapters should be expected as I have no plan to write their entire childhood, only the most important bits until they get old enough.
> 
> This was a short chapter, but I believe those that are yet to come will be longer. I didn't want to include this one in the previous chapter because as of now, every chapter has its own time period and I wanted some time to have passed since chapter 4.
> 
> Thanks for reading and commenting!


	6. Innocence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mind the rating. Violence is a MAJOR theme in this story.

**_Eight years later..._ **

 

**_Jon I_ **

 

The day was moving towards its end. Jon sat beneath the only tree in the courtyard and gazed upon the sky. It was one of those rare moments where the place was quiet and peaceful. Soon dinner would be served and he would have to leave if he wanted to eat, which he did. Missing a meal meant go hungry for the rest of the night and Jon was always hungry. 

 

He observed the three birds that sat on a branch. Sometimes he wished he had the freedom to fly anywhere he wanted, so that he could flee from this place. But as they so often told the boys at the orphanage, they were nothing and would never be. Though it didn’t stop him from dreaming. And dream he did.

 

Since he had learned to read, Jon had taken advantage of the small amount of books that he had found laying in a cupboard. The caretakers did not care for educating the children, for they only waited for the boys to grow old enough until they could make use out of them. Yet with the help of a friend, his one and only, he had managed to learn. Jarin was his name, he had told him that Jon was a natural. It had taken Jarin much longer to learn the skill of reading, but for Jon it went so fast. Perhaps it was the chance to dive into another world that motivated Jon to learn so quickly. There were not many books to read, but those that he found, told stories about great warriors and the mysterious subject of magic. 

 

Most stories was based in Essos, but there were a few that depicted the lands to the west, Westeros it was called. Though it wasn’t as much a story as it was history. It told him of how Aegon Targaryen and his sisters conquered the land. The thing that interested Jon the most was how they rode dragons. He had asked one of the caretakers about such creatures once and they had merely laughed at him and told him that dragons does not exist. Yet according to the book, they had once existed. Jon liked to fantasy that there still was dragons out there in the world, big beasts that could spout fire out of their mouths. On the rare occasions that Jon got the chance to play, he would always imagine himself a knight out on a adventure. There he would find a dragon and tame it, thereby becoming Jon the dragonknight. Jon had many dreams, for the reality was not so pleasant.

 

The birds he had been looking at each jumped off the branch and took flight, far away from him they flew. In his mind, he imagined the birds were three dragons flying high above him, ridden by Aegon Targaryen and his sisters, out for an adventure. How he wished he could extend his arms and fly away.

 

Jon heard footsteps closing in on him. He looked down and saw two boys coming his way. Yarrl and Takera, both the same age as him. None knew when any of the boys at the orphanage were born, so the caretakers counted the years since they arrived at the orphanage. 

 

“You left us. Why didn’t you help us with the cleaning?” Yarrl asked, angrily.

 

“They told us that  _ we _ were to clean everything.” Takera added.

 

“And I did my part. If I cleaned any more, I would have done more than you.” Jon told them.

 

“So? It’s better you do it than us. Too bad for you that we are telling Orta Yehna that you skipped on cleaning.” Yarrl told him.

 

Jon stood up and glared at the other boys. “Hey, I did my part. It’s not my fault you are too slow.” he said.

 

“Slow? We told you what to do and you refused.” Takera said.

 

“You cannot tell me what to do, Takera. All of us were supposed to clean, not just me.” Jon said, irritated. 

 

Takera walked up and stood face to face with Jon. “Who do you think you are?” Takera said as he pushed Jon into the tree. “Don’t think you are someone. If I say you do something, you do it.” he continued.

 

“I won’t do your work. I’m not your pet.” Jon said as he stared Takera in the eyes. 

 

Takera answered with a punch to his gut. When Jon fell to his knees, Takera grabbed hold of his chin and punched him on the side of his face. Jon lay on the ground, moaning. His vision was all a blur.

 

“Next time you do what I say, or we’ll break your arm. Is that understood?” Takera said. 

 

Jon didn’t answer as he was gasping in pain. “I need you to answer me. Say you understand.” Takera continued as he lined up to kick Jon in the stomach. Before he did so, he turned his head to look at who approached them. Jon just managed to look up to see Jarin push Takera away.

 

“What do you think you are doing? Get off.” Jarin told them, his fist clenched and ready to fight.

 

Takera glared at Jarin angrily before he looked to Yarrl and motioned for him to follow. Jarin stared as they retreated. When they left the courtyard, he moved over to Jon who was trying to get off the ground. 

 

“Here, I’ll help.” Jarin said as he gave Jon his hand.

 

“I’m fine.” Jon said, as he stood up on his own, hand clutched to his stomach as it still hurt. 

 

“Yeah sure, you definitely look fine. Why don’t you just fight back?”

 

“I don’t want to fight.” 

 

Jarin shook his head at him. “You always let yourself get beat up by guys like them. You know, soon you won’t have any choice but to fight.”

 

“I said, I don’t want to fight.”

 

“Do you think  _ they _ care? Do you think the rest of us wants to fight? Do you think I want to fight?”

 

“ _ They _ can’t force me.”

 

“Yes they can. You know what they do to us when we don’t follow them. They will string you up here right in this courtyard and beat you until you submit.”

 

Jon knew what he talked about. He had heard about it a few times, but had never gotten to see it. 

 

He looked down at the ground, his eyes starting to wet. “I don’t know how to fight. I won’t make it.” Jon said.

 

“They will train you. Though Harand once told me they don’t really care if you can handle yourself. They just want someone to fight, no matter how good we are.” Jarin told him.

 

None of the words comforted Jon. Perhaps they weren’t meant to comfort. Jarin was only speaking the truth and Jon was afraid of it. He was afraid of what would happen after tomorrow, for that was his eight nameday. It was at that age, according to the caretakers, that boys stopped being boys and became men and the only purpose for men was to fight.  _ The pits _ they called it. It was where boys like Jon would end up to fight other boys. Jarin had told him about it several times and each time Jon dreaded the day he would be old enough to participate. 

 

“C’mon, we need to eat.” Jarin said and started to walk with Jon towards the dining hall. 

 

They were the last to arrive, which earned them a glare from Orta Yehna, the head Orta. The Orta’s were those who ran the orphanage and took care of the children. They were the closest thing to a mother figure they had, though they were not very motherly, Jon thought. He had always wondered what it would be like to have a real mother. Someone that cared and would comfort him. It made Jon sad when he thought about how none of his real parents had wanted him, whoever they were. 

 

When he asked the Ortas about his parents, they told him he came from a whore like the rest of the boys. Children that no one wanted for they were all a mistake. An unwished burden that their whore mothers needed to be relieved of. Jon had cried himself to sleep that night.

 

The food they ate was bland and usually consisted of the same ingredients every meal. They were not given much, but Jarin had told him that considering their situation, the food wasn’t that bad. Afterall, their caretakers needed them to have some flesh on their bones for when they would fight. It made the fights more interesting they were told.

 

Jon usually listened to what Jarin had to say. He was two years older than Jon and had been like a brother to him. They became close friends after Jon was but five years old. As usual, Jon was getting beat down by a couple of boys when Jarin came and rescued him. Jon never understood why Jarin cared for him in the first place. When he asked, Jarin simply told him it felt right. It didn’t make sense since the concept of someone caring for him was unfamiliar. As long as he could remember, he had always been alone. 

 

“You will need to meet Harand tomorrow, you know that?” Jarin told him as he finished his meal. 

 

Jon nodded as he played with the food on his plate. For once he wasn’t feeling the usual hunger. The fear of what tomorrow would bring repelled any thoughts of food.

 

“You will do fine, I promise you.” 

 

Jon looked up to see if Jarin meant what he said. Though the only thing he could focus on was the long scar that ran from the side of his ear, across his cheek and down to his mouth. 

 

Jon remembered when he had gotten it. He had been sent to the pits one night and returned unconscious and bleeding, his face dripping with blood. Being two years olders than Jon, Jarin had participated in a couple of fights in the pits, and every time he came back with new wounds and bruises. Jon had seen some of the older boys return from a fight. It would seem that the older they were, the more injured they got. Not that there were many older boys left. Some who got sent to the pits never came back.

 

When dinner was done and over, they split and went their own way to finish whatever chores was required of them. When nightfall fell upon them, Jon went to his dorm where he slept with the rest of the boys at the orphanage.

 

He had trouble finding sleep that night and instead of laying restless in bed, he stood up and walked over to the closest window and stared out at the sky. The stars were plentiful and shined so bright in the dark that they allowed Jon to dream of a better place. He imagined himself sitting by a table along with a mother and father. They would smile and say that they were proud of him. His mother would tell him that everything would be alright and his father would give him a reassuring smile that spoke of love.

 

That night Jon fell asleep dreaming of the home he would never have.

  
  
  


**_Daenerys Targaryen I_ **

 

“Balerion, don’t run away from me!” 

 

Daenerys chased the cat through the halls as she giggled. The cat was too swift and agile for Dany to keep up with and it wasn’t long until she had lost him. 

 

Dany sighed. The cat, although her fondness for the feline, had proved to be a poor companion. Only wanting to spend time with her on certain occasions. Instead she turned and walked towards the gardens, hoping she would find someone else to play with. 

 

Their home was a big palace that was given to them by Magister Illyrio, the man who had taken them in when they fled Westeros. They had been living here for almost two years now. An upgrade from staying with Illyrio, Dany thought. 

 

The sun shined and the weather was warm as usual, which suited her perfectly. She always had a certain desire for the warmth, almost as if she craved it. 

 

Dany walked down the stairs that led to the big garden while humming a tune she had heard Rhaegar sing at night when she should have been in bed. It was a sad tune, she thought, but beautiful nonetheless. She wished he would sing more to her. 

 

Dany had heard from Ser Barristan that there was a time, before she was born, when Rhaegar would sing often while playing his harp. This surprised her, for she had never seen him near a harp or any instrument for that matter. The rare time that he did sing was in private and she would have to sneak close to hear him. They all told the same story of a wolf. Dany didn’t understand the meaning behind the words, but she knew it sounded wonderful to her ear. 

 

She spotted Ser Willem walking towards her, probably on his way inside. She walked up to him with a big smile on her face. When he spotted her, he grew a matching smile. 

 

“Hello there, little princess. What are you up to this fine day?”

 

“Nothing.” she said sweetly. 

 

Ser Willem narrowed his eyes at her. “If I know you as well as I do, it would seem you are up to no good.” Ser Willem said. 

 

“I have no idea what you are talking about.” Dany answered mischievously. 

 

“Is that so? It Could be my old age, but I swear that I saw a certain mischievous glint in those violet eyes of yours.”

 

“Nope! No mischievousness here.” she said as she walked alongside him towards the palace. 

 

“Aha, forgive me for doubting you, your Grace.”

 

“No need, good Ser.” she said as she looked up to him with a smile. Ser Willem just laughed at her.

 

Out of everyone, Ser Willem was her favorite. He had always been kind to Dany and had often chosen to spend time with her when others wouldn’t. He would tell her stories and go to the market with her. One time he had even brought her fishing, which had excited her more than he had expected. She wasn’t very good at the start, but was quick to learn after a few trips. 

 

“Don’t you have anything better to do than following an old man doing his job, Princess?” he asked. 

 

“I was hoping you would like to do something with me.” she answered, hopefully. 

 

His face fell into a frown. “I am sorry, Princess. Your brother, the King, has tasked me with something that needs to be dealt with promptly.”

 

Dany gave out a heavy sigh. She expected as much. No one ever really gave her any time at all, except for Ser Willem. Rhaegar was always busy with meetings or travelling, that he never had time for her. When he did have the time, he would always be distant. Almost as if he didn’t really want to be with her. And Viserys… she stayed away from him when she could. She never understood why, but he had always carried hatred for her. 

 

Once, she had asked him why he was always so mean to her. He had looked at her with disgust and told her that she was the reason their mother was dead. Hadn’t Dany been born, mother would have been alive. Dany had ran away, crying. She had left their home and hid outside the palace grounds. It wasn’t until late when Rhaegar had found her and carried her home.

 

That night was one of the only times that Rhaegar had shown her any emotion. The only night he had laid her in her bed and comforted her. She remembered it so well, for she didn’t know how much she had missed feeling loved and cared for.

 

It didn’t last long. The next day, Rhaegar had gone back to being distant and unemotional. Too busy preparing the war to come. 

 

She had once asked Ser Barristan why Rhaegar was planning a war. She, of course, knew about what had happened during the time she was born. Her family had been forced to flee their home in Westeros, King’s Landing. The usurper, Tywin Lannister, had taken their home from them and killed their father. Rhaegar wished revenge upon those who had wronged their family. 

 

Yet Dany couldn’t understand why they needed to go back. In Westeros there would be people who wanted them harm, here in Essos they were safe. They had a home, food and wealth enough to live a good life. She liked it here, even though she was lonely. Why risk it all to go to war, was what she didn’t understand. Ser Barristan had told her there is much that she does not know. Tywin was a powerful man and his reach had no limits. Her family would always be a threat to him and his rule. 

 

“Ser Willem.” Dany looked up and saw Rhaegar standing above the stairs that led to the palace. “Our guests have arrived, I want you with me to see everything through.” he said.

 

“Of course, your Grace. I’m coming right away.” Ser Willem answered. Rhaegar nodded to him and gave Dany a ghost of a smile before he went out of sight. 

 

“I didn’t know we were going to have guests.” Dany said as she looked to Ser Willem. 

 

“The King has been building an army for a while.” Ser Willem explained as they both walked up the stairs. “Good men are hard to come by, especially loyal ones. Therefore he has sent word for a large force of soldiers from Astapor to travel here. Unsullied they are called.”

 

“So why would they fight for us?” Dany asked as they were done climbing the stairs and entered the palace. 

 

Ser Willem was quiet for a moment. “They are slaves, your Grace. They will serve their master till their death.”

 

Dany was shocked.  _ Slaves? _ She knew Magister Illyrio owned many a slave in his home, but she always thought Rhaegar detested such practices.

 

“Why is Rhaegar buying slaves?” Dany asked. 

 

“As I said, loyal men are hard to come by. And the King needs an impressive force if he is to take back your home.”

 

Dany felt conflicted on the matter. She knew that Rhaegar was a good man, she had heard so from everyone. But was leading an army of slaves to war the right thing?

 

They walked through the many corridors of the palace and arrived at the front entrance. What she was met with shocked her. In the large courtyard stood a thousands of men dressed in light armour, wielding spears and shields. Dany had never seen so many soldiers before. Her first impression was awe, but then she remembered Ser Willem’s words.  _ They are slaves. _

 

Rhaegar stood in front of them and greeted a bald man wearing silken clothes. They discussed for a while and then shook hands. Afterwards, Rhaegar was handed a whip with nine ends. 

 

“They are under my command?” Rhaegar asked the bald man.

 

“Yes, you are their master now.” he answered.

 

Rhaegar turned to the army of men. 

 

“Dovoghedi!” he yelled. 

 

Dany jerked back at the commotion of the soldiers as they all reacted to Rhaegar. 

 

Rhaegar nodded his head at the bald man in confirmation and walked back to the entrance where Dany stood with Ser Willem. 

 

Rhaegar noticed that she was looking at him. 

 

“Why are you buying slaves, Rhaegar?” she asked.

 

Rhaegar thought for himself for a moment before answering. “This is the only way to get home.” he said. 

 

“But this is home.” she said.

 

“No, my dear Sister. Our home was taken from us.” he spoke gently. “The home of our family is now occupied by the ones who has cost us so much. We can not let them stay.”

 

Rhaegar moved close to her and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Together, as a family, we can take back what is ours. All I ask is for you to trust me.”

 

Dany nodded. Perhaps it was the things he said about family, but she trusted him.  _ Together. _

 

Rhaegar smiled at her before he spoke. “The Targaryen dynasty was built in conquest, we must do so again.”

  
  
  


**_Jon II_ **

 

The sun had just risen when Orta Sella came in and woke the boys. The high pitched ringing of the bell in her hand would wake even the most deep sleeper. Jon sat up in his bed and watched while everyone else around him prepared themselves for the day. 

 

Today was his name day. It was now eight years since he was left here and now he is already considered a man. He didn’t feel like a man, he thought as he looked down at his small figure. When Orta Sella called for them to hurry up, Jon decided to put his worries in the back of his head.

 

Jarin had once told him that some celebrate their name day by receiving gifts and making wishes. Jon hardly knew what a gift was and had to have the concept explained to him. Never in his life had he been given something. Not that it mattered, no one could ever give him what he truly wanted. 

 

As Jon sat with Jarin in the dining hall, eating breakfast, someone called for him. Jon looked back from where he sat at the table and was met with Orta Yehna. She wore a strange look as she looked down at him. Almost with a certain disgust she told him to follow her. Fear struck him as he realized what was going to happen. He glanced to Jarin who only gave him a reassuring nod before Jon stood up and followed the head Orta. 

 

They left the dining hall and passed a couple of corridors before they arrived at her office. She opened the door and inside stood a tall fat man with a big moustache. As they went inside the office, the man gave Jon a scrutinizing look. Jon didn’t dare to meet the man’s eyes so he looked down at the floor instead. 

 

“So this is our new recruit.” the man said as he looked Jon up and down. “A bit small for my liking, but I believe we could do something with you. It’s been a while since we’ve gotten some fresh meat in the pits.” the man said with a smile.

 

“I’m Harand. You know why you have been brought here, boy?” the man asked him. 

 

Jon didn’t answer, but continued to stare at the floor. 

 

His head jerked forward as Orta Yehna walked up behind him and slapped the back of his head. “Speak up.” she told him, sternly. 

 

Jon lifted his gaze from the floor and settled it somewhere around the man’s waist. “It’s my name day.” Jon answered. 

 

“And here I thought I was talking to a deaf boy. That’s right, you’re a man now. It’s time for you to give back to those who has provided you a home and food for the table.” Harand said. “The fights has gotten a bit stale lately, in my opinion, so you will be a welcome addition. We’ll put you in training and your first fight will be in a month from now.”

 

 _A month,_ Jon thought. But he didn’t want to. He had never physically hurt nor punched anyone, not even when he had gotten beat up numerous times had he fought back. It wasn’t in him to fight. 

 

“I don’t want to fight.” Jon said quietly. 

 

Harand’s eyebrows shot up in surprise at what he said. “What was that, boy?”

 

Jon braved himself to look the man in the eyes. “I don’t want to fight.” Jon repeated more clearly. Jon was beyond frightened and his whole body shook in nervosity when Harand narrowed his eyes at him. 

 

“You don’t want to, you say? Don’t be foolish, you will do your part the same as everyone else. If you haven’t noticed, we are the reason you are still alive. Hadn’t it been for the kind Orta Yehna here, who has sheltered, clothed and fed you, you would have been dead long ago. You owe us, boy.”

 

Harand stared directly at him, waiting for an response or an rebut. Jon remained quiet and looked down at Harand’s feet, tears slowly running down his cheeks. “Good. I will make sure they toughen you up. Wouldn’t want you to die after your first match, you wouldn’t be a very good investment otherwise.” Harand said as he turned his head to Orta Yehna, who stood behind Jon.

 

“I don’t want to fight.” Jon said, his voice cracking mid sentence.

 

Harand turned to Jon again, scowling at him. Harand surged forward and pulled Jon by the color of his shirt. “You dare disrespect me? You will do as I say or I’ll make sure you regret this day for the rest of your life, is that understood, boy?”

 

Jon didn’t know what to do, there was nowhere to escape or run to. Jon started to cry as he tried to avoid Harand’s malicious gaze directed at him. “All you seem to do is cry. Is that all you can do, boy!? Cry?” The last word said in a mocking voice. “We don’t take weak boys, but I’ll make a man out of you yet” He said as he pulled Jon by the collar towards the door. “Gather all the boys in the courtyard.” He called back to Orta Yehna. “It would seem that they need an reminder of who they owe their life to.” 

 

Jon kicked and screamed trying to get loose from the grip on his collar, but Harand was unyielding. When they reached the courtyard, he threw Jon onto the ground with force. “You want to become a man? Then you better stop crying.” Harand said as he unbuckled his belt.

 

Jon looked on in horror as Harand came at him again and picked him up. Jon struggled against his hold until they got to a wooden pole that was stuck in the ground. Harand punched Jon in the face, making him momentarily blind. During his dazed state, he felt his hands getting tied above his head to the pole with the belt, his head facing the wooden pole.  

 

By now the courtyard had started to fill up with boys his age and younger. Everyone looked at Jon in horror at what was going on. Jon was panicking so hard he thought he would faint any second.

 

Everything went quiet after a while, until Harand’s voice filled the courtyard. “In case you have all forgotten, but you belong to us! Without us you would be nothing. The world does not care for you, to them you are no one! Not even your whore mothers wanted you. All they wanted was to get paid for spreading their legs to anyone who got the coin, and instead they got you! You were all born mistakes and you will remain so for the rest of your lives. I am giving you a chance to do something worthwhile with your life, to be something!”

 

“This weakling of a boy,” he said while gesturing to Jon. “denies the privilege I offer you of a place in this world. He would rather stay a young boy, who does nothing but cry. I tell you, the world is not fit for weak boys.”

 

Jon looked back from where he was tied and saw Orta Yehna walk up to Harand. He felt his heart stop when he saw her handing over a whip. 

 

“It is my duty to make men out of you.” Harand finished. 

 

Harand turned from the audience in the courtyard and faced Jon, whip in hand.  

 

Jon felt helpless as he realized what was going to happen. He cried and begged him to stop. 

 

“I won’t stop till you stop crying. It’s time for you to learn.” Harand said as he swung the whip back and swiftly thrust the end torwards Jon.

 

_ Crack! _

 

Jon screamed as he was met with a blinding pain against his back. He slumped against the pole, but managed to stay upright. 

 

_ Crack! _

 

A second strike made Jon cry even harder. The pain was so blindingly hot that he felt nothing but the mark it left on his back. 

 

_ Crack! _

 

It grew worse every time and tears were flowing out of Jon’s eyes as he kept screaming for anyone to help him. 

 

_ Crack! _

 

Harand did not stop as he kept whipping him, the next strike more brutal than the last as if he picked up momentum. 

 

Jon had crumbled to his knees after six strikes and would have fallen to the ground had he not been held up by the belt he was tied with to the pole.

 

Jon had no ability to keep count of the amount of times he was hit with the whip, for all he felt was his back burning in an extreme pain, too great to be imagined. It wasn’t until perhaps the twelfth strike that Jon stopped crying. He just stood on his knees as the whip kept cracking against his back, which felt like it had been sliced to pieces. And when the last crack hit his back, the pain was so agonizing that Jon felt the world around him disappear…

  
  


Jon woke up in his bed laying on his stomach. He tried to move, but the moment he did, his back flared up in scalding pain. Jon used all his remaining strength to not scream. 

 

After a while the pain had managed to dampen, yet it still lingered and grew every time he moved.

 

When Jon had regained some sense of reality, he looked around and saw that everyone had already gone to sleep. He figured he must have been unconscious the rest of the day, which meant it was still his name day. 

 

Jon remembered what Jarin had told him about name days, that people would recieve gifts and make a wish. Jon closed his eyes and whispered into the dark his one wish.

 

It took some time, but Jon managed to fall asleep again, no matter the pain. 

 

In his dream, he stood in a big lush garden with lemon trees and a path that led straight to a big house with a red door. When Jon opened it, he was overwhelmed with the feeling of pure bliss and the distant sound of a girl’s laugh coming from inside the house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter Jon and Dany will both be teenagers (around 14 years old). After chapter 8 we will be caught up with the summary.
> 
> Thanks for all the kudos and comments!


	7. No Weakness

 

**_Six Years later..._ **

 

**_Daenerys Targaryen II_ **

 

The sunlight from the balcony shone on her face, waking her up. She lay in her bed for a while, enjoying the peacefulness that the morning brought. The faint sound of people working from outside could be heard from the the balcony. 

 

Today was her name day, her fourteenth. For once, Rhaegar had tried to do something for his family and had planned a feast in her honor. When he had announced, she had almost snorted. Too little, too late, she had thought. 

 

Dany sat up in her bed and stretched her arms. She couldn’t have cared less about a feast, but she guessed it could be an useful reason to discuss affairs with some important people. People who could be beneficial to them. Maybe that’s what Rhaegar’s plan was. It certainly wouldn’t surprise her. 

 

She stood up and went to her wardrobe to prepare herself for the day. She chose a blue colored dress, which was light enough for the warm weather, but appropriate for the occasion. Someone knocked at the door and Dany invited them in. 

 

“Your Grace.” her handmaiden curtsied to her. 

 

“Good morning, Nanja.” Dany said with a smile. She went and sat in a chair while her handmaiden came up behind and started to braid her hair. 

 

“I saw that the preparations for the feast is almost done.” Nanja said when she was halfway done with her hair.

 

“That’s good.” Dany answered simply.

 

“There are a lot of people invited. Have you met them before?” 

 

“A few from when I was younger, but I suspect most of them will be unfamiliar to me.” Dany said.

 

“Perhaps a potential suitor, hmm? Wouldn’t you like to meet someone charming and handsome to chat with?”

 

Dany rolled her eyes. “I doubt there is any plan for me to marry nor find a suitor. Even if there were, I would make sure those plans were changed.” Rhaegar wouldn’t dare try to match her up with anyone, not even to make alliances. She would make sure of that. 

 

As soon as she was dressed and ready, she went out of her room and started today’s business. The feast would soon start and guests would be arriving any time. 

 

When she was about to enter the big hall, where the feast would take place, she heard her brother call for her. 

 

“Daenerys! My lovely sister, I hope you have had an wonderful name day this far.” Viserys said as he walked over to her.

 

“Well thank you, Viserys. In fact, I have had an excellent morning.” Dany said. She mentally prepared herself, she knew what was coming. 

 

“I suspected so. Must be nice to celebrate the day of our mother’s death.”

 

Dany narrowed her eyes at him. “It seems so. Tell me, how was the whores this morning? Were they to your liking?” she said. “Must be some way to honor our mother.” 

 

She saw Viserys face twist in anger. He moved to stand dangerously close to her. “Mind your words, Sister.”

 

“Or what? I’ll wake the dragon? Don’t think so highly of yourself, a true dragon wouldn’t be so weak minded.” 

 

Viserys hand flashed across her cheek, leaving a stinging mark, then grabbed hold of her arms and pushed her into a corner. “Think you are grown up now, huh? Since it is a party, I won’t bruise your face, but know this.” he said as he stared into her. “You are but a little girl. There is nothing you can do to stop me from beating you to a pulp when this is all over.” Viserys hands squeezed into her arms which would surely leave a bruise under her sleeves. “Is that understood?”

 

Dany tried to stop the tears running from her eyes as she avoided his intense gaze. Viserys hands squeezed even harder, “Do you understand?” 

 

Dany feared he would beat her right there, hadn’t guests been arriving to enter the hall. Viserys quickly released her, gave her a last glare, then turned to greet the guests. 

 

Dany forced the tears away and when she had gathered herself, she put on a smile and went to follow her brother to welcome the guests. She hoped her cheek wasn’t as red as it felt.

 

It wasn’t long until the festivities started and all the guests had arrived. Dany and her brothers sat together at the table of honors. Luckily, Rhaegar sat in the middle while Dany and Viserys sat at either side of him.  

 

Guests had one after one come up to her and offered her gifts. She was given books, rich fabrics, jewellery and centuries old wine. 

 

“This brooch, my Princess, was made specifically for you. I had my jewellerer prepare this before I left.” Daenerys was handed a silver brooch with three dragon heads. “It is made out of the finest silver there is. I hope it pleases you.”

 

“It certainly does. Thank you for your kindness.” Dany said. 

 

The merchant bowed his head in farewell and returned to his table. 

 

That was when Magister Illyrio walked up to her. 

 

“Greetings, your Grace. My, what you have grown since I last saw you. Even more beautiful than before.”

 

“You are too kind, Magister.” Dany said.

 

Illyrio glanced back and made a sign with his hand for his servant to come. The servant walked up to them with a rather small chest in his hands. “I’ve brought you a special gift, my Princess.” Illyrio said as he took the chest and opened it, showing Dany its contents. 

 

Dany’s eyes widened as she gazed at the three large eggs which lay inside. They each had their own color; green, white and black.

 

“They are dragon eggs, Princess. Sadly, the ages has turned them into stone, but their beauty is undeniable.” Illyrio explained.

 

Dany couldn’t take her eyes away from the eggs. She could almost feel the heat emitting from them, but when she picked one of them up, it was cold to the touch. 

 

“Thank you, Magister. They certainly are beautiful.” she said. 

 

Illyrio bowed and went back to his seat. Dany lay down the egg and closed the chest. A servant came and took the chest to put it amongst the other gifts. When he did, Dany felt as if a part of her had been ripped away.

  
  


The festivities lasted long into the evening and by then Dany was already tired of it. A few guests had retired and those who were left, were too far into their drinking to stop. Rhaegar had left the table long ago, probably to chat up some guests to try and convince them to support their cause. Viserys had left long before that. She hadn’t seen much of him, but she wouldn’t be surprised if he went to entertain some of the female guests. She doubted he would succeed with any of them, so her best bet was that he resided in his room with the usual whores he played with. 

 

Dany had stayed and acted like the perfect little Princess, thanking the guests for coming and telling how honored she was. It almost hurt her face to smile all day and pretend pleasantries while feigning interest. She longed for when it was appropriate for her to leave and go back to her room. She despised all things that meant she had to put up a front for people. Not during the whole day had she been herself, always pretending to be someone she wasn't to make people comfortable. 

 

Truthfully, she looked at all of them in disgust. Rich and powerful men who had their slaves do their every bidding. They were all dressed in silk and smelled of strong perfume, as if they tried to hide their true nature. They probably lied as much as she did when they smiled and complimented her. The richer they became, the better liars they were. Dany hated the falseness of the whole affair. She had always preferred actions to politics. She just wished she had the power to make them all bend to her will, but as Viserys told her earlier, what could she do to men like them?

 

When the festivities started to slow down, Dany took her chance and snook out of the hall and went to her room. As she got away from all the people, she breathed out in relief. 

 

She got to her room and when she closed her door, she noticed that the servants had already brought the gifts inside. There were a lot that she did not care for, but her eyes could not stray from the chest which lay upon her table. She walked across her room and stroked her hand across the top of the chest. 

 

A knock came on her door. 

 

“Come in.” She said as she turned to see who it was. 

 

She was shocked to see Rhaegar standing in her doorway. “I hope I didn’t disturb you, Sister.”

 

Dany shook her head. “No, not at all. I just retired from the feast.” 

 

Rhaegar gave a nod and closed the door behind him. 

 

“And was it to your liking?” Rhaegar asked as he came and stood by the window.

 

“Not really, no.” she answered him honestly.

 

"I thought you would say that. It wasn’t to my liking either.” he said as he looked out the window.

 

“I guess it was worth the trouble?” Dany asked him.

 

Rhaegar looked at her, confused. Dany explained herself. “I suspect this feast was an excuse to invite some of the most powerful men in the area to discuss business.” she said.

 

Rhaegar had an impressed look in his eyes. “Sometimes I think you are too clever for a girl in her fourteenth year.” he told her. 

 

“Our situation does not benefit the clueless. I’ve been forced to learn a thing or two.”

 

Rhaegar gave her a small smile. “You’ve grown up.”

 

“I did that a long time ago.” she said with an edge.

 

Rhaegar looked away from her and sighed. “I know that I haven’t been there for you a lot.”

 

“You have never been there for me. The rare occasions that you tried does not count.”

 

“I know. I know that I have avoided you. I have been absent from both you and Viserys. I wished I could have been there for you.”

 

“So why weren’t you? We needed you. We needed our big brother to guide us. Six years ago you said that we would to this together, take back our home  _ together. _ Yet you still avoid us like the plague. We are your family, why won’t you be with us?” Dany’s eyes had started to wet as she almost broke down in front of him.

 

Rhaegar remained emotionless. “I wish I could give you my love. Truly, I do. But I can’t.”

 

“Why?” she pleaded.

 

Rhaegar was quiet for a while, not looking at her. 

 

“I gave everything to my wife. My heart… my soul. When she died, she took it all with her. Our child she bore was the only link I had left to her. A chance of… having a part of her with me. When Tywin sent mercenaries after my best friend and my son, he took everything from me. I was prepared to leave Westeros behind and start a new life with our family. But that child was my last link to Lyanna, and without her I have had no love to give.”

 

Rhaegar looked at Dany and she saw the smallest glint of emotions in his eyes.

 

“When we are born, there is only a part of our soul that is whole." Rhaegar said. "The rest of our life we will go searching for the last piece to fill the void inside of us. People can go their entire life searching for the missing piece, but when they find it… there is no going back. Once the right piece has been found, the trace it leaves will forever remain inside you. You could be a million miles away from each other and your soul will still yearn to once again be whole.”

 

Rhaegar paused.

 

“When the person who gave you the missing piece passes away, the trace of what has once been, will always remain. The yearning turns to emptiness and the love you once had turns to numbness.”

 

“It’s a weakness.” Dany stated.

 

“Love is a lifesource.” Rhaegar said. “We pull strength from it, but when it is gone, we feel lost. I’m afraid I never recovered from that. Unfortunately, you have suffered from it. I never got to be the brother you deserved and needed. I don’t think I will ever be able to give you what you want.” 

 

Dany sat down on her bed. “If love is all you say it is, then I don’t want it.” Dany told him.

 

“When the time comes, you won’t have a choice. We don’t choose who we love. Fate binds people with threads. At the start, they are all tangled together and there is no way for us to separate one from the other. We don’t know which end our threads leads to. But as the years go on, the threads become less and less tangled and things starts to get clear to us. We all have a purpose in this world. There are things we are meant to do and there are people we are meant to meet.” Rhaegar explained.

 

“Some threads will sever and we will never see what they led to, but there are those that will stand against the test of time. It’s those that will lead you to something greater, something that is beyond our power.” Rhaegar finished.

 

“What are you living for now then, brother? What's your fate?” Dany asked.

 

“Blood.” he said, honestly. “Blood of the man who took it all from me.” Rhaegar looked to Dany. “I haven’t included any of you in the preparations because I have no desire to force you into the bloodshed that I know will come. I don’t have any love to give you, for my heart is filled with hatred and the need for revenge. My future will only bring death and destruction for you.”

 

“But we are a family. Fire and blood runs in our veins, this is what we are made for.” Dany said.

 

Rhaegar’s face almost turned sad. “There was a time when there was nothing you wanted more than to stay here, in Essos.” he told her.

 

“I was a child. I know what my duty is to our house. You were not the only one who lost something when they took our home. I’m a Targaryen too.”

 

“Indeed you are, Sister. I can see you growing more alike our mother every day.” Dany’s heart filled with longing at the mention of their mother. How she wished that she could have met her. 

 

Rhaegar lay a hand on her shoulder and stared into her eyes. “She would have been proud of you.”

 

Dany couldn’t help the smile that grew on her lips.

 

“Sleep well, Daenerys.” he said. The contact on her shoulder was gone too soon as he went to her door.

 

“Goodnight.” she called after him. 

 

When he closed the door behind him, leaving her alone, she felt a tear run down her cheek. She wiped it quickly and turned her head back to the table. Her eyes locked on to the chest. She stood from the bed and opened it. She picked up the black dragon egg and dragged her fingers along the scales that decorated its shell. It was still cold to the touch, but in her mind, she felt the heat radiating from it. 

 

Holding the egg made her feel strong, as if there as a source of strength hidden within. She caressed the layer of scale, the conversation with Rhaegar lay heavy on her mind.  _ Love is a weakness that I can't afford, _ she thought.  _ I won’t make the same mistake he did.  _

 

She didn’t know if she imagined it, but the egg’s scales started to heat under her fingers.  _ If I had the power, I would have brought the Seven Kingdoms to its knees. Just as Aegon the Conqueror did. When the time comes, I’ll be strong.  _

 

She could almost feel the content in the egg moving.  _ Viserys shall see. They shall both see. I am not weak. The blood of the conqueror flows in my veins. I know it, the threads that’s bound to me leads to the Iron Throne. That is my fate.  _

  
  
  


**_Jon III_ **

 

He could hear the crowd cheering from where he sat. Jon looked around at the three others in the room and saw that one was his age and the other two were older, perhaps Jarin’s age. They had been placed in a room separate from the event to wait for their turn to go out. Jon knew he was the next to go. 

 

He lifted his hand and looked at it. It was steady, not one sign of shaking or twitching. It had become a ritual for him to do so before every fight, to check for any sign of fear or nervosity. His hand had been steady for every fight since his second year in the pits.  _ No weakness. _

 

Jon’s head jerked back as he heard a loud scream in pain coming from outside the door, followed by the audience’s roar. It wasn’t long until the door swung open with two men dragging the screaming boy inside. Jon recognized him, he was the last one to leave the room to enter the pits. Yonna was his name. Jon had talked to him on the rare occasion. He wasn’t too bad of a person, he thought. But as he watched the boy whimpering in pain when the men dropped and left him in the corner of the room, he felt nothing. 

 

Jon glanced to the door and saw Harand enter. Harand’s gaze swept over the boys until he zeroed in on Jon. A grin appeared on his ugly face. “Your turn, Wolf.”

 

Jon’s face remained cold as he stood up and went for the door. As he passed the doorway, Harand gripped Jon’s shoulder, halting him to a stop. “Me and my friends have a lot of money invested in this fight. Don’t fail me.” he said. Not waiting for an reply, he left Jon and went to climb the stairs to the podium which overlooked the pits. 

 

The cheering of the crowd grew larger as Jon got closer. He stopped midway and removed his shirt so that he was bare from the waist up. After removing his boots, he was left in a pair of long shorts. 

 

Jon heard Harand’s voice carry over the loud noise of the crowd. “The betting is now over! It’s time for the next round!” That was Jon’s cue. He passed the small path that went through the crowds and arrived at the pit. The crowd erupted in roars of both encouragement and insults depending on if they betted in Jon’s favour or not. He blocked it all away as his eyes were set on the pit in front of him. 

 

The pit was exactly what it was called, a pit. The floor had been hollowed out in a circular hole, which was deep enough for a tall man’s head to reach the top. Jon approached the ladder that led down to the pit and climbed down. When his bare feet touched the sand that covered the ground, he turned and came face to face with his opponent. The brown eyes of Yarrl stared back at him, filled with bloodlust. 

 

Tonight’s weapon was their bare fists. The first to subdue the other, became the champion and could later be challenged by others. Yarrl was bigger than Jon, but he knew that his opponent had already gone through two fights that night. It wasn’t a fair game, but the crowd didn’t care. Each fight they bet on whether the champion would win or fall. It was just money to them.

 

“Fight!” Harand shouted from the podium above.

 

Yarrl advanced quickly and swung his arm for Jon’s head, which he easily avoided by ducking and landing a punch to his opponent’s gut. Yarrl gave out a loud moan and almost crumbled to his knees, but managed to stay upright. Jon, who had maneuvered to stand behind him, showed no mercy as he kicked the back of his knee, making him fall. Jon swiftly grabbed hold of him and put him in a chokehold with an arm around his throat. Yarrl struggled against his hold and clawed at Jon’s arm, but Jon could sense his opponent’s strength fading with the lack of air to his lungs. It wasn’t long until he went limp in his hold and Jon released him, dropping him to the ground. 

 

The crowd roared at Jon’s swift victory, but he ignored them. Instead he looked down at the unconscious body of the guy who had bullied him the majority of his life. He didn’t know how he felt about it. One part of him said that what he had done was wrong, but the other part said that Yarrl deserved it. But it was more than that, this part of him enjoyed it. Enjoyed the fighting and practically basked in the brutality of it. 

 

“We have a new champion!” Harand spoke over the crowd. “The night is far from over, place your bets now!” 

 

The betting took place and Yarrl’s body was hoisted up by rope that two men had tied around his chest. Shortly after, a new opponent climbed down the pit. The ladder, which they climbed down on, was always removed before the fight as to take away any possibility for the fighters to escape. There must always be a winner, and therefore there must always be a casualty. It didn't matter if your opponent was alive or dead, as long as they couldn't stand up again. Jon knew, he had enough scars on his body for a lifetime. 

 

His next opponent was one of the older boys. Jon recognized him from the orphanage, but had no idea what his name was. He had never said a word to him. He was of Jon’s build, but a little shorter and had short blonde hair.

 

When Harand started the fight, they were both swiftly advancing each other. Jon threw a punch which the boy deflected and then he himself tried to hit Jon in the head. Jon blocked it by grabbing his forearm and pulled his opponent towards him to bring up his knee to the boy’s stomach. The blonde haired boy moaned, but recovered and landed two punches on Jon’s stomach. Jon answered the blows by pushing him away and delivering a right hook to the boy’s jaw. His opponent flew back, but was quick to come at him again. 

 

They both started to exchange punches. Jon was quicker and more agile as he ducked and blocked most incoming hits. Jon’s blows were calculated and well aimed. His opponent tired quickly as he failed to block most of Jon’s punches. When the boy momentarily lost focus after receiving a powerful blow, Jon took the chance to deliver a left hook on his chin. The boy’s head flew up and exposed his neck. Jon quickly finished him off with a last blow to his exposed throat. 

 

The crowd erupted at the display of violence and cheered for Jon. The blonde haired boy, who had fallen to the ground, was clawing at his throat and gasping for air. Once again, Jon turned away the sound of the cheering crowd and gazed at the breathless boy on the ground. 

 

Jon saw the panic in the boy’s eyes when he couldn’t manage to breath. The punch to the throat had been more severe than Jon thought and had likely crushed his windpipe. The boy thrashed and rolled around as his head went blue from the lack of air. He watched as the blonde haired boy reached out a hand towards him for help, but Jon remained motionless. He just stood there and watched the boy suffocate. It wasn’t long until the outreached hand fell to the ground and the body in front of him went deadly still. 

 

Jon couldn’t look away from the boy’s unblinking eyes, which were stuck in a panicked gaze. 

 

“Now that was a fight!” Harand called over the never ending cheer of the crowd. “The champion remains standing! Place your bets now, before it is too late!”

 

Jon’s eyes never strayed from the boy’s body as it got strapped in rope and hauled up from the pit. When the body was moved out of sight, his eyes remained stuck where it had disappeared. 

 

It wasn’t until he heard Harand preparing for the next fight that he shook himself out of his dazed state.

 

_ No weakness,  _ he thought.

 

The third fighter climbed down the pit. He was both older and bigger, yet the fight went similar to the others. Jon took a couple of hard blows to his upper body, but his agility and well placed hits made him a dangerous adversary. His opponent delivered powerful punches that Jon blocked, but the force behind them still stunned him. They came apart from each other for a couple of seconds, both catching their breath. It gave Jon time to refocus.

_ No pain. _

 

_ No weakness. _

 

They were soon on each other again, like two animals they fought. Jon managed to grab hold of his opponents arm and twisted it behind his back. In a moment of pure primal instinct, Jon twisted it so hard that it snapped. The intensity of the scream that the older boy gave out was almost loud enough to be heard above the deafening roar of the crowd, who only got more encouraged by the brutality of the fight.

 

Jon pushed his opponent into the wall. He then walked up behind him and banged the boy’s head against the wall until he lost his conscious and fell to the ground.

 

“And the wolf remains the victor!” 

 

Jon watched the blood running from the boy’s forehead, staining the sand red. 

 

“The betting is open again, we have one last fight tonight!” Harand yelled over crowd.

 

_ Blood. So much blood.  _

 

“Shall we make this fight more interesting?” Harand spoke.

 

_ Was the boy still alive, or was he dead? _

 

“Give our new friend a sword!”

 

_ It did not matter, he had already killed one this night,  _

 

“Are you ready?” Harand asked the crowd.

 

_ what was one more. _

 

Jon locked eyes with his new opponent. Jon was unarmed, the boy in front of him had a sword. 

 

“Fight!”

 

Jon remained motionless as the boy in front of him rushed forward, sword raised high. 

 

_ No pain. _

 

Jon slid to the side, avoiding the blade. 

 

_ No weaknesses.  _

 

The blade went past him, leaving the boy momentarily exposed. 

 

Jon took hold of the boy’s hand wielding the sword, stopping any possible harm that could come to him. 

 

_ They both knew each other. _

 

Jon kicked him in the guts with his knee and twisted the sword out of the boy’s hands. 

 

The roaring of the crowd almost lifted the roof.

 

For a split second, Jon and the boy locked eyes. 

 

_ Tresch was the boy’s name. He was kind. He had showed Jon the books he liked. _

 

Jon saw the moment Tresch’s eyes shifted from shock to resolve. 

 

_ He knew.  _

 

Jon pushed him away and swung the blade across Tresch’s throat. 

 

_ Jon liked Tresch. _

 

Blood sprayed from the boy’s throat as he fell to his knees. Hands at his throat, trying to stop the bleeding. Jon stood still and watched. 

 

Tresch’s body fell to the ground and once again the sand got a lot more red than before. As did Jon’s hands. 

 

“We have ourselves a real warrior here! Give it up for the Wolf!” Harand yelled to the crowd. 

 

They all cheered for him, but Jon didn’t listen. He just stared into the eyes of the boy he had just killed. 

 

He was the same age as Jon. He shared Jon’s interest in stories about dragons and adventures. They had talked about where they had wanted to go most in the world. Tresch wanted to see mountains, to go west and build a better life for himself. But mostly he wanted a family. He must have known it was just a dream, Jon thought. Boys like him and Tresch would always be alone. They would always be nothing. 

 

Jon exited the pits and left the body of his friend laying in the pool of his own blood. Harand came up to him and gave him a pat on the back and told him that he did a splendid job. 

 

The carriage which they had arrived in was waiting outside and would take him, along with the other injured boys who were still alive, back to the orphanage. 

 

When they were back, Jon went to clean himself off. As he brushed off the sand, he glanced at the mirror which hung on the wall. Jon looked around to see if there was anyone else, but he was all alone. He walked over and stood in front of the mirror and removed his shirt. He looked at all the bruises he had acquired that night, which would all fade away eventually.  _ No new scars _ , Jon thought, as he glanced at his old ones that adorned his body. 

 

There was a long scar that ran across the left side of his chest. He had gotten that during one of his first fights. The first year in the pits would forever remain in his nightmares. 

 

He looked at the deep claw marks that ran across his right obliques. One night, Harand wanted to try something new. That’s why he gave Jon a sword and put him alone in the pit. Alone with a hungry male tiger. He survived, of course, but not without his own souvenir from the night.

 

There were so many scars on his body and he remembered when he had gotten every single one. The small scars that adorned his abdominals, his arms, the one that went along his shoulder and of course, the web of perhaps twelve, fourteen long scars that went across his whole back. He could still feel the scolding pain of the whip cracking against his back. 

 

He removed the rest of the sand and cleaned himself up the best he could. Instead of going straight to bed, he decided to go to the courtyard to calm the thoughts inside his head. It was there he saw Jarin sitting at Jon’s usual spot beneath the lone tree.  

 

Jarin looked up and nodded at Jon in greeting. Jon walked over and sat down next to him. They both were quiet for some time, too lost in their own thoughts. 

 

“How did it go?” Jarin asked without looking at him.

 

“I won.” Jon answered emotionlessly. 

 

“That’s good.” Jarin said.

 

They went quiet again.

 

“I killed two tonight.” Jon said. 

 

Jarin looked at Jon.

 

“And how does that feel?” Jarin asked.

 

“Like something inside me has cracked.” Jon answered.

 

Jarin nodded his understanding. 

 

“I know the feeling.” Jarin told him and went back to stare out in the courtyard.

 

They both sat there in silence for some time until Jarin broke it. 

 

“I won’t be staying here for much longer.” 

 

Jon looked at Jarin, confused.

 

“Where are you going?” he asked.

 

“There is word that the Golden Company are on a contract nearby. I’m going to ask to join them.”

 

“Golden Company? You want to become a sellsword?”

 

“Better to fight for gold than to fight for that old fucker, Harand. I know it, if I stay here, I’ll die. I’ve reached my sixteenth name day, they will soon deem me too old to control and will want me to go out in a blaze of glory.” Jarin laughed at the last bit. 

 

Jon sighed. He was right, no one at the orphanage had surpassed their seventeenth name day. Older boys fighting were not as exciting, they thought. Also, the older the boys became, the harder they were to control. 

 

“I get what you are saying. Tell me if there is anything I can do to help you get away from here.” Jon told him.

 

“So  _ we _ can get away, you mean.”

 

Jon looked at Jarin, not following his train of thought.

 

“Come with me.” Jarin said. “Do you wanna die at this place?” 

 

Jon remained quiet.

 

“Don’t tell me you haven’t dreamt of leaving this place. There is a whole world out there outside these walls, Jon!” Jarin told him.

 

“Of course I have.” Jon said.

 

“So what’s stopping you? Harand and the Orta’s has managed to convince you that you need them to survive, but they will be your death! They fucking sent you into a pit with a tiger a couple of months ago, they don’t care!”

 

“And it will be better with the Golden Company? Isn’t it the same thing?” Jon countered.

 

“At the Golden Company we will be free men, fighting for ourselves. We can build a life of our own. I beg you, come with me.” Jarin pleaded. 

 

“They are an army of elite soldiers. I am but past my fourteenth name day.” Jon argued.

 

“I have seen you fight. Trust me brother, they have everything to gain by taking you in.”

 

Jon went quiet again, deep in thought.

 

“Do you know where we can find them?” Jon asked after a while.

 

“I do.” Jarin answered.

 

Jon nodded his head at Jarin, his choice made. “I’ll come with you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A change of plans, there will be one extra chapter before we are caught up with the summary. I had misjudged the plot before. The chapters will be eventful, so they will hopefully be good. After chapter 9 we will be caught up with the summary and storylines will begin to intertwine with one another.
> 
> Thanks for leaving kudos and for taking the time to write comments. I read every single one of them!


	8. Unleashed

**_Daenerys Targaryen III_ **

 

_ The smoke enveloped her as she passed through the fire. The flames were blinding and they kept getting larger and more violent.  _

 

_ The heat was scalding, yet her skin remained pure. She stood naked as she bathed in the flames.  _

 

_ She was alone and afraid.  _

 

_ Then she saw them. Through the dancing flames, she saw the dragon eggs.  _

 

_ She watched how they trembled and small cracks formed under the heat.  _

 

_ Dany reached her hand towards them, desperate to be close to her eggs. _

 

_ As soon as her hand touched the black egg, it cracked open. _

 

That’s how all her dreams had been. Ever since her fourteenth name day, they kept coming and every day they would grow more vivid and detailed. She always woke with such hunger. Not for any food or anything else to fill her stomach, but a hunger for blood.

 

The dragon eggs kept calling for her in her dreams, as a child would call for their mother. Once she had even gone so far as to put the eggs in bed with her, embracing them as she slept. She would have thought it strange hadn’t it felt so natural to her. 

 

Her temper had turned for the worse, several times flashing out in blind anger. Her handmaiden had told her it was normal for a girl her age to feel emotional, but Dany doubted normal girls had dreams of being drowned in fire and the need for blood. Gradually, she had learned to control it. She had at least stopped acting out on her impulses, but she couldn’t change what was in her mind. The calling of the fire did not diminish. Instead it kept getting stronger every time she resisted it, as if there was something she had to understand. 

 

The eggs had turned to stone, did that mean whatever life once existed inside was dead and gone? Or was it merely to protect its content through the long years of exile. Perhaps whatever life existed inside waited to be freed. 

 

The last few weeks, Dany’s mind had been filled with the prospect of hatching the eggs. She imagined the possibilities of returning dragons to the world. The Lords of Westeros would cower in fear. The three headed dragon was her family’s sigil. The Targaryens had rode the dragons into battle, just like her ancestors of old Valyria. It was her duty, if possible, to bring life to the dragons so that they may roam this world once again. 

 

She scoured through all the books she could find of dragons and dragonlords. To no success did they say how to bring a dragon into the world. But she couldn’t give up.

 

Rhaegar was busy writing a letter at his desk when she entered his office, but looked up to see Dany approach him.

 

“Sister.” Rhaegar said in greeting and turned back to his letter. 

 

“I need to speak with you.” Dany said. 

 

Rhaegar sighed and put away his pen. He returned his gaze to her, showing that he was listening.

 

“How extensive is your knowledge on dragons?” She asked.

 

Rhaegar thought a little. “I know enough. I spent a great time reading about them in my youth. Why are you asking?”

 

“What do you know of hatching dragon eggs?”

 

Rhaegar narrowed his eyes at her, as if he knew what she was thinking. “It’s not possible.” He told her. “The eggs has turned to stone, whatever chance of a dragon hatching from those eggs is long gone.”

 

“But we haven’t tried! Imagine what we could do with three dragons at our backs. There must be some way, you must know-”

 

“I know enough about hatching dragon eggs. There are many who has tried and they have all failed.” Rhaegar said, as he stood up and started to pace around in the room. 

 

“You don’t think we should try?” Dany asked him.

 

“The eggs are nothing but prized trophies of a forgotten age. Why do you think Illyrio gave you them? Don’t you think, if it was possible, that he would have tried to hatch them? Or perhaps the person he bought them from would have tried. Whatever dreams of dragons you and I have are nothing but dreams.”

 

“I don’t believe you. The eggs has found their way to me for a reason.” Dany said. 

 

“You are not going to try and hatch those eggs.” Rhaegar told her, sternly. 

 

“And why is that, brother?” she asked him, the anger in her growing.

 

“Didn’t you listen to me? Many have tried to hatch dragon eggs before and they have all failed. The last attempt left all of Summerhall in flames. So many people died that day and the great castle still lies in ruins from the disaster.”

 

Dany had heard the story before, though she did not know that the destruction was caused by an attempt to bring dragons back into the world. That meant she was not the only one in her family to have tried recently.

 

Their discussion came to a halt when Connington knocked on the door and entered. Dany left them to their business and went her own way, but could feel Rhaegar’s eyes on her back as she exited his office..

 

She couldn’t leave it at that, not after her dreams. The eggs were calling for her and she had to set them free. Rhaegar could not stop her. Nothing could stop her. If he didn’t want to help, she would do it herself.

 

She went around the palace and looked for Ser Willem. When she found him, she asked him to do her a favour. 

 

“What is it I can do for you, Princess?” Ser Willem asked.

 

“Gather a group of men and have them bring wood for a pyre. Tell them to place it in the courtyard.” Dany told him.

 

“A pyre, your Grace?”

 

“Yes, a big one.”

 

Ser Willem had looked at her confused, but after she retold her order in a commanding tone, he obeyed and sent for men to gather the wood.

  
  


It had grown dark at the time it was all prepared. She approached the pyre, which had been built in the courtyard according to her instructions, with the chest of dragon eggs in her hands. The woodstock that had been stacked against each other to form the pyre was high enough to reach the top of Dany’s head. She had told them to leave an opening amongst the wood so that she may place her eggs inside. 

 

She kneeled down and opened the chest, revealing three beautiful dragon eggs. She picked each one up, like a mother would pick up her child from their crib, and placed them inside the pyre. She then motioned for the guards to fill the opening with remaining wood and stood up to grab the torch one of the guards were holding for her. 

 

She knew that she required fire to hatch them, her dreams had told her as much. The dreams were still as clear to her now as they were at night.  _ Under the heat the eggs had trembled and started to crack. _

 

She lit the pyre with the torch and walked back a safe distance. The fire spread quickly and soon it lit up the courtyard.  _ This has to work. Let the fire bring life to these eggs. Let them hatch under the heat. Let them be born. _

 

Dany waited with bated breath as she gazed at the fire in front of her. She stood there long into the night until the fire had finally gone out and nothing but ashes and pieces of burnt woodstock remained. 

 

Dany approached the leftovers with hope that she would see new life emerging from the remains. But as she soon saw, there was no such thing to be seen. The eggs had remained whole and untouched by the fire. She kneeled down and picked one of them up to inspect it, but there were no sign of cracks. No sign at all that the fire had been effective.

 

“As I said, It’s not possible.” Dany looked back and saw Rhaegar standing behind her. She hadn’t even noticed his arrival. “The life that once existed inside those eggs is gone.” he said.

 

_ It can’t be. In my dreams… _

 

Rhaegar lay a hand on her shoulder. “You should get some rest, it’s late.” When Dany remained on her knees holding the egg, he left her in the courtyard and went inside the palace. 

 

Dany remained there until morning, holding the egg as she wondered what she did wrong.

  
  
  


**_Jon IV_ **

 

The campsite was enormous. There were too many tents to count as they were escorted through the encampment. Men of every age was there, old and young, fair and dark skinned. Most of them wore simple gear that was common for sellswords, but Jon could see men in golden armour coming in and out of tents. A few of them was even dressed in gold from head to toe. Even their swords shimmered in the sunlight, thanks to the variety of gems decorating the handles. 

 

It was too much for Jon to take in at once. Their travel here had been long and tiresome. It had taken some time for them to escape the orphanage, but luckily Jarin had planned this for a long time. They were both to be sent to the fighting pits that night when they managed to sneak away. Jon counted his blessings that they hadn’t decided to go a day later. That night would have been the first time for Jon and Jarin to both be present at the pits. The thought of fighting Jarin, the only brother he ever had, made him feel ill. 

 

The men looked strangely at them when they passed, some snickering at the sight. Jon doubted it was Jarin they laughed at, he had had a huge growth spurt the last year and managed to build a hefty physique. Jon imagined he looked quite ridiculous coming here. Compared to Jarin, who had a two year advantage on him, he was a lot smaller. Jon had grown the last few months, but to these men he was nothing but a young boy. 

 

After a while, they had arrived at an open area amongst the giant lineup of tents. In front of them stood one much bigger tent that were different from the rest. It was made out of golden cloth and had pikes all around it, tipped with gilded skulls. It all made for an imposing sight. 

 

“Stay here.” The guard commanded and went inside the golden tent. 

 

Jon and Jarin stood outside, waiting. There were men walking by and one of them stopped in front of them. 

 

“Are you lost?” he asked them.

 

“No, we’re here to join you.” Jarin answered.

 

The man looked to Jon then at his friends before letting out a loud laugh. Jon grew uncomfortable at the scene.

 

“You brought your own squire?” the man asked, indicating Jon.

 

“He’s my brother.” Jarin told him, none jokingly.

 

“We’re soldiers, lad. This is no place for children. Perhaps it’s better you go somewhere else.”

 

“There now, let me see what we have here.” another man said as he appeared from the golden tent. He was tall and wore a shirt made of golden silk. He had short brown hair and a short beard. At his hip sat a sword with a golden handle and a golden skull on top with small emeralds as eyes. 

 

The man looked them up and down, sizing them up. “So I hear you want to join us, hmm?”

 

“That’s right, Ser.” Jarin answered. Jon remained quiet and stared at the man in front of him.

 

“My men are the finest fighters you can find in the free cities, what makes you think that you belong with us?”

 

Jon figured this must be the captain of the Golden Company, he certainly looked like it. 

 

“Me and my brother here, we have both fought most of our life.” Jarin said. “We are skilled and we will be a great asset to you.” 

 

The captain scrutinized them. “You have been in many fights, you say? A squabble here and there does not compare to fighting a man with sword.”

 

There was a pause before Jarin answered. “We have killed.” he said. The dead eyes of Tresch flashed across Jon’s mind. 

 

Many of the men, including the captain, started to laugh. “I’m sure you have, boy. I believe we can find a place for you amongst ourselves.” His gaze switched to Jon. “As for your brother here, I believe he is quite young. Perhaps it’s better he finds something else to do.”

 

Jarin took a determined step forward. “That won’t happen. We join together.” he said. 

 

“You making demands now? We are at war, lad.” The captain looked to Jon again. “Men may call me greedy, but I see no purpose in having a boy killed.”

 

“You would be surprised at what he got to offer, captain.” Jarin said.

 

The captain sighed and walked up to Jon. “You have been awfully quiet, boy.” Jon met his eyes. “Is that your thing? Letting others do your business for you?”

 

“I give you my word, he-” Jarin started, but was interupted by the captain. 

 

“You’ll be silent. I’m talking to your friend here.” he said, narrowing his eyes on Jon. “Men who come to join us have already been trained. If you have any skill, you wouldn’t mind showing us, right?” he asked.

 

Jon looked to Jarin, but he couldn’t read his face. He met the captain’s eyes again and nodded.

 

The captain smiled. “You are a quiet one, aren’t you? Tristan, give me a hand here, will you?” he told the man standing some feet away. He was fair skinned with long red hair and wore a suit of light armour. “Give this boy a sword and let him prove his worth.” Jon was handed a sword and suddenly people was moving away to give them some ground to fight on. 

 

Tristan approached him, his own sword in hand. “I’ll give you first swing.” he said. Jon felt the weight of the sword in his hand, finding a good grip. When he was ready, he swung his sword towards his opponent, which Tristan easily parried and delivered a kick that threw Jon to the sand. 

 

The spectators laughed. “I hope you can do better than that.” he heard the captain say. Jon grunted, but quickly stood up again, sword ready. Tristan snickered and swung his blade towards him. Jon tried to block, but the force behind the blow was too great. Their fight was short lived and soon he felt his opponents blade against his throat. Tristan smiled and removed the blade. 

 

“That’s twice you have been killed today. You sure this is your thing?” Tristan taunted.

 

Anger filled Jon and he went to strike, but was quickly blocked and pushed away. Jon went for him again, but Tristan avoided his blow and put the tip of his blade against Jon’s waist. “Dead again.” he told him.

 

Jon quickly pushed the sword away with his own and tried to strike low onto Tristan’s legs, but was once again blocked and got an elbow to his chest, pushing him to the sand. 

 

The captain shook his head. “I’m sorry, boy. You just don’t have the skill nor the strength.” he said. Jon thought he saw some disappointment in his face. 

 

“Weak soldiers are worse than no soldiers at all.” Tristan said as he stood above him. 

 

_ No weakness _

 

Jon flew up from the ground with his sword raised high. Tristan was prepared to block, but he was not ready for the swift combination of blows Jon delivered. Jon was constantly moving his feet and using his small form to his advantage. Tristan delivered powerful blows that stunned him when blocked. Jon used all the pain he had and turned it into his own strength, just like he did in the pits. 

 

_ No pain _

 

Jon missed a step and Tristan sent him flying to the sand. Jon shook off the sand and was soon on his feet again, ready to fight. So it went on, again and again. Jon fought with everything he had, as soon as he did a mistake, he got sent to the ground and every time he got right back up. The fight turned more and more serious. In the beginning, Tristan had been playing with him, but now he was actively trying to beat him down. 

 

Jon had split his lip and felt blood dripping from his eyebrow. His whole body hurt from where he had gotten hit and from where he landed as he fell.

 

“Give up, boy. This is a fight you can’t win.” Tristan told him after sending Jon to the ground for the tenth time. 

 

“No.” Jon grunted and got up again. 

 

“You have a deathwish or something?”

 

Instead of answering, Jon charged him with his sword. Their swords clashed and the camp was filled with the clinging of the blades. Jon blocked and parried, avoiding blows and tried to hit his opponent. With a twist of his sword, Tristan disarmed Jon and flung his sword away. In pure primal instinct, Jon charged him without his sword. Tristan wasn’t ready and dropped his blade as he got pushed to the ground. They both rolled around and wrestled each other, but in the end, Tristan was stronger. Jon lay on his back as Tristan lined up a fist to his face. “Stop!” The captain said. “Get off him.” Tristan relaxed and let go of his grip to stand up. Instead he reached out his hand for Jon to grab.

 

Jon’s first instinct was to not take it, but decided to risk it. Their hands clasped together and he was pulled to his feet. Tristan gave Jon a respectful nod.

 

“What’s your name, boy?” The captain asked.

 

“Jon.”

 

The captain was quiet for a while as he looked at him. 

 

“Why did you not give up?” he asked, curiously. “This was no fight you could have won, why keep trying?” he asked.

 

Flashes of Harand delivering scalding blows with the whip against his back went through his mind. “I’m not weak.”

 

“Yes, you are. You have a fighting spirit to challenge most brave men, but you are weak.” The captain walked over to Jon and looked him in the eyes. “But with us, I believe we can make you strong.” He reached out a hand to Jon. “The name is Harry, I’m your new captain.”

  
  


**_Daenerys Targaryen IV_ **

 

“What are you doing, Daenerys?” Rhaegar asked as he joined her. Dany was standing in the courtyard, instructing the guards as they built another pyre.

 

“I will hatch those eggs.” she told him.

 

“And last time was not proof enough that it cannot be done?” He asked her.

 

“The fire wasn’t big enough. The heat wasn’t enough last time.” she explained.

 

Rhaegar shook his head in disbelief. “How are you so sure that putting the eggs in a fire is going to hatch them?” he asked. 

 

“Because that’s what my dreams tells me.”

 

“Your dreams?” Rhaegar asked, confused.

 

“In my dreams the eggs are enveloped in flame and in the heat they started to crack.” She told him. 

 

Rhaegar looked puzzled at her. “How long have you had these dreams?” he asked, curiously.

 

“Ever since the eggs came into my possession. They are calling for me, Rhaegar. They want to be freed.”

 

“Why haven’t you mentioned these dreams before?”

 

“Would you have listened?” Dany said with a glare. “The eggs came to me for a reason. I must be the one to bring them to life.” And with that, she left him to go to her room and fetch the dragon eggs. 

 

It was midday when she brought the chest down and the men had just finished building the new pyre. This time, she had made sure that the fire was much bigger. The pyre was almost twice her height, built by different sorts of woodstock to ensure the maximum effect. This fire would last long and the heat inside would be enough for the dragon eggs to hatch, she knew. 

 

She kneeled down and gently placed the dragon eggs in the opening underneath the woodstock. As she stood up, the men filled it up and Dany grabbed the waiting torch to light the pyre. 

 

The fire grew quickly and the smoke rose to the skies in big clouds. 

 

She noticed that Rhaegar was standing some distance away from her, observing the situation.  _ Why would he be here if he didn’t have some belief?  _ She thought.

  
  


They both remained in the courtyard long into the evening, watching the fire. It was late at night when it died down and nothing but ashes and burnt wood remained. 

 

Dany walked over to the residue of the pyre, once again hoping to see life. But there was none. She got down to her knees and started digging through the ashes and found her eggs untouched.  _ It didn’t work. _

 

“I don’t understand…” she whispered into the air. 

 

She heard footsteps coming from behind, but Dany’s gaze did not stray from the eggs. 

 

“It was just a dream, Dany.” Rhaegar said. “Believe me, I too dream about the possibility of dragons returning to this world. But it’s just wishful thinking. It’s just us now.”

 

Dany didn’t believe him. She couldn’t. “It wasn’t just a dream Rhaegar, It was real. The eggs were calling for me.”

 

Rhaegar kneeled beside her and picked up one of the eggs. He let his fingers gently caress the scales of the green egg. They were both quiet for some time.

 

“We can take back our home without dragons.” he told her.

 

“How? We do not have enough men.” Dany told him as she looked at the remaining two eggs laying amongst the ashes. 

 

“We will. I’ve made plans, but it is going to take some time. I promise you, Sister, we will go back home. We just have to bide our time.”

 

Rhaegar lay down the egg next to the others. “It’s not over.” he continued. “The Lords of Westeros shall have what they deserve. This is not the end for us.” With that, Rhaegar stood up and left her.

 

Dany’s eyes never strayed from the eggs. Had she been mistaken? Was it all just a dream? Perhaps she had been too hopeful to not realise the impossible. 

 

The thought of leaving the eggs crossed her mind as she stood up. They were of no use to her. 

 

As she went to leave, she felt her heart tug. The bond between Dany and the eggs were still strong as ever. She realised that she couldn’t leave them, they belonged with her.

 

Dany kneeled back down in the ashes and gently picked up her eggs. She wiped the off the dirt with the hem of her dress before putting them back into the chest and left the courtyard.

  
  
  


The days passed and her dreams kept haunting her at night, every time the same dream. She walking through the fire and seeing the dragon eggs cracking amongst the flames. 

 

She barely ate anymore, the fire in her dreams consumed any thoughts of food. She spent whole days in her room, feeling the weight of the dragons eggs in her hands and gently caressing their scaly shell. With time, she almost grew paranoid. Her dreams took its toll on her as they grew more and more vivid. Every night she was consumed by the fire and she was afraid that it would hurt her. But as she fell into deeper and deeper solitude, shutting the few people around her away, the fire stopped scaring her. It wasn’t until one night when in her dreams, she embraced the flames around her, that she felt the fear inside her go away.

 

It had gone two weeks since her last attempt and now it was time for the next. There was no part of her that wasn’t convinced she was fated to bring dragons back to the world. This was what she was born to do. 

 

One morning, she tracked down Ser Willem and asked him to build a new pyre. This time, it would be much bigger. The dragons were fire made flesh and in her dreams they were enveloped in flames. Fire was their source of power and this time there would be no limits. 

 

Her handmaiden brought her food, but Dany would have none of it. Instead, her eyes were locked down on the courtyard from where she stood on the balcony, watching the men load long woodstocks onto each other..

 

It wasn’t until the next day, when the sun was about to go down, that everything was prepared. 

 

Dany walked outside to the courtyard, dragon eggs in hand. 

 

The pyre which had been built was a lot bigger than the last one. Over two, almost three, metres high and about four metres wide. In the center, a large opening had been made which was big enough for Dany to enter. 

 

She stepped inside the small room inside the pyre and lay the eggs down onto the wooden floor and walked out. That’s when she noticed Rhaegar standing by the entrance to the courtyard, leaning on a pillar and shaking his head in disbelief. 

 

Dany ignored him and picked up a torch. She went around the pyre and lit the spots where the material was easily flammable. The fire started slow, but soon spread swiftly. 

 

Dany walked back to stand a safe distance away from the flames as they grew more violent. Rhaegar walked up to her, both gazing at the spreading fire. “I thought we were done trying the impossible.”

 

“You were, I wasn’t.” Dany responded. 

 

“You can keep building bigger and bigger pyres, but it won’t make a difference.”

 

“It will. Those eggs will hatch, Rhaegar.”

 

Rhaegar sighed. “What have you tried that the others before us haven’t? Don’t you think their first thoughts was to put them in a fire?”

 

Dany tried not to listen to him. He was wrong, he had to be. The dreams told her it would work. They told her she had to do it. But he was right, what did she have that the others didn’t?

 

Dany thought back to her dreams. She had been consumed by fire and in the flames she saw the eggs crack. That’s when it struck her.  _ I was in the fire. _

 

_ Fire and blood was our words. The eggs had a fire. They needed the blood. The blood of the dragon. They need a mother to bring them to this world. _

  
  


**_Rhaegar Targaryen IV_ **

 

Rhaegar noticed that Dany took a small step forward. He looked at her strangely. 

 

She took another step. “Dany, what are you doing?” he asked. 

 

“They need a mother.” She told him as she continued to take small steps. Rhaegar grew worried at her words. 

 

“Dany.” Rhaegar said in warning.

 

When she didn’t listen he got more nervous. “Dany! Stop.” he told her in a commanding tone. He followed her and went to grab her arm, but she slipped away from his grip and started running towards the fire. 

 

“DANY DON’T!” Rhaegar yelled, but she didn’t listen. He ran after her, but she was already too far ahead. Her dress blowing in the wind.

 

He chased her hopelessly as she ran towards the entrance to the fire which was enveloped in flames. Rhaegar was so close to catching her, but it was too late. He watched how his sister ran into the fire and let it consume her. The second that she ran in, the pyre burst out in flames like an explosion. Rhaegar was thrown to the ground from the sheer force that erupted from the flames. He glanced up from where he lay and saw that the fire had grown twice its size and the flames were so violent that they almost burned him. 

 

Rhaegar scrambled to stand up and moved away from the flames, but couldn’t pull his eyes away from where his sister had disappeared. For the first time in almost fourteen years did Rhaegar feel fear.  _ What have I done? _

 

The fire had grown so big that it lit up the entire courtyard. People had come to see what was happening and started to fill up the area. 

 

Rhaegar went down on his knees and looked sadly at the pyre.  _ She is gone… my little sister. _

  
  
  


He stayed in that position the whole night until the sun came up. The fire had almost died out by then and there was nothing but a giant cloud of smoke surrounding the area. 

 

Rhaegar stood up and went over to the remains of the pyre to see what his sister’s life had bought. The whole area was so quiet. By now almost the whole palace had been emptied to witness the tragedy. Rhaegar covered his eyes, blinded by the cloud of smoke as he stepped over burnt wood and ashes. 

 

That’s when he heard a faint sound coming from ahead, like a high pitched purring. Multiple sources. The smoke had finally begun to clear up. What Rhaegar saw amidst the ashes was something that would forever be imprinted in his mind. 

 

In front of him, Daenerys sat naked as the day she was born. Only her long silver hair still covered some of her skin which was stained with ashes, but unburnt. And on top of her shoulder, in her arms and crawling at her leg... was three small dragons. 

 

Daenerys looked up at him, her violet eyes more clear than usual. Almost as if they were glowing. The newborn dragons turned their heads to him, inspecting the new arrival. Rhaegar remained motionless as he gazed at the miracle in front of him. Only in his wildest dreams could he imagine such a thing.

 

Dragons had returned to the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know there is a blood sacrifice in canon when Dany hatches the dragon eggs, but there was no good way to fit that in the story without making up some bad reason for it to happen. It was quite a struggle to come up with a reasonable way for her to actually make a big fire and go into it and not have it come out as unbelievable.
> 
> There is a reason that Dany could hatch the eggs by stepping into the fire. The dragon eggs were bound to her, and she to the eggs. No matter how the story changes, Dany was always meant to bring dragons back to the world.
> 
> The way Harry Strickland is portrayed will be different from both the show and books. In this story he will be a very competent leader and a great warrior, though his love for elephants will not change.
> 
> This is still very much the beginning of the story, there is much more to come later. Next chapter Jon and Dany will be grown up (19 years old) and the plot starts to move towards the Second Conquest of the Seven Kingdoms.
> 
> Thank you for the kudos and comments! Both are greatly appreciated!


	9. Good As Gold

**_Five years later…_ **

  
  


**_Jon V_ **

 

Jon sneaked over to the others who were hidden behind the rocks. 

 

“How many?” Jarin asked.

 

“Two.” Jon answered. 

 

Jarin nodded. “We’re ready when you are.” he said.

 

Jon turned back and peaked up at the wall from behind the rocks. “We just have to wait.” Jon said.

 

“Wait? for what?” Jarin asked.

 

“Just hold on…” Jon told him. The patrolling guards were facing their way as they walked the designated route atop the city walls. As soon as they turned their backs, Jon signalled for the men to move. “Go.”

 

Jon, Jarin and the four other men who came with them, ran for the walls as discreetly as they could. The darkness did wonders in hiding them. They had switched their armour for black leather jerkins and were only equipped with a sword along with the necessary equipment needed for the mission. 

 

“Bardha.” Jon said and motioned for the crossbow in the man’s hands. Bardha walked over and handed him the bow along with a hook. Jon took both items and loaded the crossbow with the hook, which was attached to a rope. Jarin was already done loading his own and had gone to take aim at the top of the wall. Jon did the same and pulled the trigger, releasing the hook high into the air where it lodged itself into the ledge above the wall. He gave the attached rope a tug, ensuring its hold, and started to scale up the wall. 

 

They had just one day earlier lay siege to the city, but it was too well protected. After retreating to try again the next day, Jon had gone and done some recon over the city’s structure, specifically its defences. The Golden Company had stationed themselves in front of the main entrance, but Jon had ventured to the other side, almost at the back of the city. There he found the location that they found themselves at that night. There the walls was at its weakest. They were not as tall and if done correctly, would be able to be climbed over.

 

Although the wall were not as tall, it was still a fair distance to climb and they had to be quick before the guards returned. Jon and Jarin powered it through tough, easily scaling the wall and hardly breaking a sweat. As soon as they were over, Jon looked around and checked for when the guards would return. They had yet to turn back and go their way, but their time was still very limited. 

 

Jon signalled for the remaining men down at the ground to start climb up. They were not as quick and Jon had to silently urge them on to be faster. When only two were left, and they were halfway up, the guards were returning, their torch a stark contrast to the darkness of the night. When they were all up on the walls, Jon told them to go down the stairs that were found nearby and wait at the ground level. The men listened and followed his command while he and Jarin waited atop of the stairs, crouching and staying out of sight from the incoming guards. 

 

As the guards passed them, they sneaked up from their hiding place. Their steps quiet and their movement swift. The guards had no time to react when they were grabbed from behind with an arm around their throat, getting forcefully choked. The man in Jon’s grasp didn’t suffocate quick enough and instead he took a tight grip on the man’s head and snapped his neck. When both guards were down, they picked the bodies up and carried them down the stairs where their men waited. There the corpses were stripped of their armour so that Jon and Jarin could put it on themselves.  

 

Jon put on the helmet, covering most of his face, and faced the men. “Follow us, but not too close. Stay in the shadows and do not let yourself be seen.” The men nodded and followed him as they walked out onto the streets of the city. 

 

The city was large, but they had the advantage of the night for the streets were mostly empty. They came across a conjunction where Jon heard voices coming from the connecting street. He signalled for the men to stand behind as he went and peaked out from the corner of a house. There were four guards coming their way, patrolling the streets. Jon looked back at his men. “You all know the plan?” Jon whispered as loudly as he could. They nodded and Jon stepped out from the corner, meeting the guards. “Hey! We need backup, four soldiers has entered the city!” Jon yelled and pointed at the men behind him. The guards were quick to react and followed him behind the corner. Jon and Jarin joined the city guards and stared down the men in black leather jerkins.

 

“You fucking sellswords. Attack!” One of the guards said and charged the men in front of them. Jon and Jarin stayed behind a second before following. The guards clashed with Jon’s men. What they didn’t know was that they had unknowingly exposed their backs to the enemy, a mistake they did not have the time to regret when Jon and Jarin came from behind and struck them down with their blades. 

 

The corpses were stripped of their armour and the bodies stacked in a corner where no one would find them. At least not that night and that was all that mattered.

 

All six of them walked through the streets of the large city. They were untouchable since the guards they passed didn’t bat an eye when they saw a group of men dressed in their own armour. They had successfully become invisible. It was a large distance to travel before they arrived at the gates, which was the only thing that stood between the Golden Company and the fall of the city. 

 

The area leading up to the gates were guarded by at least a dozen soldiers, not counting the numerous at top of the walls. They stood still for a while as Jon thought of the best plan of action. There was only so much preparation he could do before they left camp as he had no idea of the layout of the inner city, but Jon was confident enough that he would be able to deal with the problems as he came across them. 

 

The gates were locked with two large wooden beams which needed to be removed. There was no chance of pushing them off without the guard’s notice. Jon did a mental count of the amount of men they would have to dispose of. The guards stood in two groups and chatted amongst themselves, their focus on the situation of the city far away from their minds. 

 

“How are you thinking we do it?” Jarin asked Jon.

 

“We split up. You and I take the men to the right while the others take those to the left.” Jon answered. All of them understood the plan and went their designated ways. Jon and Jarin approached a group of five men. 

 

“Evening.” Jarin greeted. 

 

“Good evening, friend. You’ve come to release some of us?” one of the men asked.

 

“Indeed we have.” Jarin said and quickly drew his sword, stabbing the man in his throat then proceed to quickly engage the others. Jon was with him every step of the way, striking the rest of the men down. The guards had barely time to react. One of them managed to draw his blade, but was quickly struck down when Jon cut his head clean off. At the time they were all dead, Bardha and the three others had just finished with the rest. The sound of their struggle had made it up to the walls and bells started to ring, calling for reinforcements. Archers atop of the walls turned to them and aimed their bows. Jon and the others quickly hurried to the gates, avoiding arrows as they ran until they were protected by the alcove of the city entrance. 

 

“Hurry! Lift it up.” Jon said and the men took grip on the first beam, bracing themselves for the lift. “Push!” Jon urged, and the six men used all their strength to force the wooden beam up from where it kept the gates locked. It was damn heavy, but they made quick work of it, the sound of guards coming their way made them work faster. Men from the walls had climbed down and charged them with swords. Jon was about to turn around and fight when Jarin held him back.

 

“You stay, I got your back.” Jarin said and drew his sword to clash with the arriving guards. Jon and the four others took hold of the last beam and slowly managed to get it up and threw it down on the ground. The sound of incoming guards got louder every second. With the gates unlocked, they took ahold of the handles and pulled the large doors open. There was a torch sitting by the entrance that Jon grabbed and started to wave it around in the air, signalling to the Company. 

 

“Jon!” Jarin yelled. He turned back to his men and saw that they were getting swarmed and hostile reinforcements would arrive any minute. Jon drew his blade and helped his men to kill the archers who arrived from the walls. 

 

The battle was short and as they were all struck down, they faced yet another threat. In front of them stood too many men to count. One of the guards, probably an officer, stepped forward. “Lay down your weapons, now!” Jon and Jarin shared a look. They both knew what came next. 

 

“Give up!” The officer yelled. 

 

Jon and Jarin removed their helmets and dropped them onto the ground. Jon bent down, but did not drop his sword. Instead, he picked up a second sword from the corpse by his feet. He stood up again, a sword in each hand, staring the officer in the eyes.

 

“You will die for your treachery!” the officer screamed.

 

“Valar morghulis.” Jon told him. The officer signalled for the men to charge and they came rushing to them, their swords raised high. Jon and his men met them head on and fought with everything they had. They stood up well against the large force of guards that tried to kill them, but they were quickly surrounded and had to defend themselves in every direction. The blades in Jon’s hands cut through bodies easily as he danced through the masses. Blood was spilled and limbs were severed. So many swords was swung in his direction, yet not a single one hit him. Jon deflected each blade with ease and cut down numerous of guards. 

More and more guards fell, but there was always someone new to take the fallen man’s place. No matter how many Jon killed, they kept getting more. Soon they would have all of the city’s forces on them. The relentless craving for blood and violence that had been born during his time in the pits started to resurface. He had kept it at bay for so long, but at that moment he let himself succumb to its calling. Jon started to mercilessly cut down everyone who came in his way. Every kill brought the urge to kill more. The calm and collected mind that usually defined Jon was gone and in its stead was the mind of an animal ripping apart his prey. If he was hit, he did not notice, for he was too succumbed to the slaughter of everyone around him. In the corner of his eyes, he saw Bardha fall to the ground, which only fueled the bloodlust in Jon. Jarin had held Jon’s back during the whole fight, striking down anyone who came near him. Together, they plowed through the masses, blood staining them from head to toe. 

 

Through the clash of swords and the screams of dying men, a horn was heard and an incoming rumble shook the ground. Suddenly, the mass of guards where charged down by dozens of horses. Flashes of gold was seen above the mighty stallions. More and more men filled the area, striking down all the city guards. The numerous of guards that had kept coming for Jon squandered and fled the incoming forces of the Golden Company. Jon turned back and came face to face with the massive army that shimmered in gold as they entered through the gates. The city would fall within minutes. 

  
  


**_Daenerys Targaryen V_ **

 

_ Come to me. _

 

The black shadow, high up in the sky, started to descend at her command. He closed the distance to the ground quickly and extended his large wings to dampen the fall. The flow of air almost pushed Dany away, but she held her place. The ground shook as his feet touched the grass, his long neck closing in on her. Dany couldn’t keep the smile away as she reached out her hand to pet the dragon’s snout. She heard the small purring that he gave out, seemingly content with the connection between them. 

 

Balerion had grown large, much larger than his siblings. She loved all her children equally, but she couldn’t deny the deep bond that she had formed with Balerion. She had named him after the great dragon which Aegon conquered the seven kingdoms with. The black dread, he was called. Her own Balerion was very much the same, black as the night with a hint of red showing from between the scales. He struck fear in anyone who laid eyes upon him, but not in Daenerys. She only saw him as one of the most precious things she had in life. The others being Vhagar and Meraxes, her other two children, who were named after the dragons ridden by Aegon's sisters; Rhaenys and Visenya. The names had been obvious, how could she not have seen that history was repeating itself and thus the need to honor her ancestors was clear.

 

The ground shook twice more as Vhagar and Meraxes landed behind their brother and walked forward to greet her. Dany had been alone most of her life, but with her dragons she was never lonely. They were as much part of her as she was part of them. She could feel their presence even when they were out hunting. The faint taste of blood and meat filled her mouth as they feasted on their prey. She had never felt so strong as she had since the dragons hatched in her embrace. Her children were wild and strong and through the bond she had become that as well. No longer did she care for falseness. No longer did she hide who she really was. 

 

At times, the dragons presence was quite overwhelming for her. She had acquired their strengths, but her children were magical creatures, the most ferocious beasts that ever existed. As the dragons grew, so did their influence on her. She tried to control it, but there was no denying the underlying cravings for blood and violence growing inside her. Dany thought if the dragons could influence her, perhaps she could do the same to them, but that had proven meaningless. The dragons only grew bigger and bigger, and so did their wildness. Whatever they became, so did she. Dany feared that within years, she would have changed too much to come back from it, but she had to try and resist it. There was a war coming and they needed the dragons if they wanted to win. She would do whatever it took to ensure her family’s legacy and she would do anything for her children. 

 

She was just about to climb up the back of Balerion when her name was called out. Dany looked back and saw one of Rhaegar’s guards standing a far distance away from her and the dragons. No one dared to venture close to them. “The King invites you to the meeting room.” He called. Dany sighed and looked at her dragon longingly. She wanted to be close to them, to be with them. Yet, there was a war to plan. 

 

“Tell him I’ll be right there.” She called back and gave Balerion a last rub on his snout. She gave the same affection to Vhagar and Meraxes before leaving them at the large hill where they rested. 

  
  


**_Rhaegar Targaryen V_ **

 

Rhaegar stood gazing through the window at the dragons where Daenerys had recently left them. During the five years that the dragons had lived they had grown to be quite the large beasts. Just last year they were big enough for Dany to climb up Balerion’s back and ride him up into the sky. He had to admit the small jealousy he felt towards her at the time, but Dany had told him to connect with one of the other two dragons. He had never felt such power radiating from a living creature as he had when he placed a hand on a dragon. It was a complete other thing to actually ride one. Rhaegar had advised that Viserys learned to do the same, but Dany was quick to reject the idea at first. 

 

The animosity between Daenerys and Viserys was still a problem. It had taken some convincing, but Dany had in the end let Viserys bond with Meraxes. Though Rhaegar believed that no matter who rode the dragon, they would always be loyal to their mother. There was a special bond between them and his sister. A bond that could both be a great benefit and a hazard. 

 

Dany had changed a lot since emerging from the fire unburnt. Of course she had grown up, but there was something else. Her classic valyrian looks seemed to have become more accented since hatching the dragons. Her eyes a brighter color of amethyst than any other in their family. Her silver hair shined more so than his or their brother's. That, together with the shape of a grown woman, had made her undoubtedly beautiful. All men who laid eyes upon her almost grew scared at the sight of her beauty, but Rhaegar knew what was hidden beneath it all. He had seen what else the dragons and the fire had affected. There was a darkness in her that seemed to grow by the years. He just hoped that when the time came, she would be able to control it.

 

Rhaegar looked back and saw Viserys enter the meeting room. Connington and Barristan was already there, waiting for everyone to join. “Well, I’m here. We can start now.” Viserys said as he came to stand next to the big table where a map of Westeros was laid out. 

 

“As soon as Daenerys joins us we can start.” Rhaegar said. Viserys sighed, but nodded in understanding. 

 

“So, is it time?” Viserys asked. “For us to sail west.” He clarified.

 

“The final pieces of the puzzle are being laid as we speak. Indeed it is time for us to go back home.” Rhaegar answered. That’s when Dany chose to join them. Connington and Barristan bowed their heads in greeting. “So we are all gathered. Good. Let’s start.” Rhaegar said and looked to Connington.

 

“Tywin is well informed about our situation.” Connington started. “I believe the Spider has kept him updated on our every movement. He has had time to prepare for your return to Westeros for almost nineteen years. Though I believe he did not expect us to arrive with three dragons at our back.”

 

“Not fully grown yet, though.” Viserys stated.

 

“They grow larger every month.” Dany said. “By the time we arrive in Westeros, they will have grown enough.”

 

“You’re right, Princess. There is no denying the force of power that the dragons are, even though they are untested in battle. But these are dangerous beasts. They will not see the difference between a soldier and an innocent citizen. That’s why we need soldiers to do a lot of work for us. Otherwise we will leave nothing but a pile of rubble after us when we are done.”

 

“You are saying that we should not use the dragons?” Viserys asked.

 

“No. What I’m saying is that if you want there to be people left alive when you are done conquering, you should use the dragons responsibly. History has taught us much about the destruction that a dragon can bring.”

 

“You talk about soldiers, yet the unsullied and the men still loyal to us are not enough to take the seven kingdoms.” Dany stated. 

 

“We are not the only one who stands to fight Tywin.” Connington said. “The Lannisters and the Starks has been in war with each other for a long time. Their choice to not participate in Tywin’s rebellion left tensions between the north and the crown. Who’s to say they won’t support our cause against a common enemy.” 

 

“You expect the Starks to come to our aid? They did nothing when our family was forced from our home.” Viserys said.

 

“At the time Tywin started to revolt, our father had already shunned the Starks away and threatened the daughter of Winterfell, my wife.” Rhaegar said. “Had the rebellion never happened, father would probably had started a war against them.”

 

“Don’t exaggerate, brother.” Viserys said.

 

“He had already slighted Tywin, lord of one of the most powerful houses in Westeros. What makes you say that he would have stopped there?” Rhaegar said. “Our father was weak. It was all a matter of time before someone got enough and stood up against him.”

 

“And why didn’t you do it?” Viserys asked. “If he was so evil as you say, why didn’t you stand against him?”

 

“I clinged to a foolish hope that he could be saved. I could not see pass the memory of my younger days when he was still clear in his head. When he was still a father to me.” Rhaegar paused. “I was weak back then. I made mistakes. There won’t be any mistakes this time.” Rhaegar finished. He then looked back to Connington, silently telling him to continue.

 

“The ships, which are standing ready in Pentos, can carry ten thousand men. It will take us at least three trips to transport all of our forces.”

 

“You speak as if we have more than ten thousand soldiers. Where do you get your numbers from?” Viserys asked.

 

“Thirty thousand men, to be exact. Not including those still loyal to us back in Westeros” Rhaegar answered. “As I said, the final pieces are being laid as we speak.” 

 

“We have ten thousand now," Dany stated. "Who will provide us with the remaining twenty thousand?”

  
  


**_Jon VI_ **

 

“You okay?” Jarin asked. They had just returned to the camp after their successful siege of the city. The mission they were paid to do was done and the war they fought was over. They had won. 

 

“I’m fine.” Jon answered as he entered the tent shared by him and Jarin. 

 

“You sure? You kind of lost it back there. I thought I was looking into the eyes of a beast when I saw you after Harry and the rest arrived.” Jarin said. 

 

Jon sighed and started to remove his own armour that he had switched to after the Company stormed the city. He knew what Jarin talked about. It had taken him some time to once again gain control over his cravings from the fights at the gates. He wasn’t an aggressive person, but when met with violence, something inside him changed. “It won’t go away.” Jon said. “It still haunts me to this day. I fear that one day it will go so far that I won’t be able to bring myself back from it.”

 

“You will.” Jarin said as he came to stand beside him. “You are strong, Jon. Don’t let what we did in our past life define you. That part is over. You will never have to return to those pits.” 

 

Jon didn’t answer. “Even if it would go so far,” Jarin continued. “so far that you lose your way, I will be there to bring you back. I promise.” Jon remained quiet, motionlessly staring at the wall of the tent. Jarin grasped his shoulder in a supportive gesture before moving to leave the tent. 

 

Jon turned to Jarin, a question on his tongue that he had carried on his mind for a long time. “Why did you save me that day?” He asked. “At the orphanage? You didn’t have to, you didn’t know me.”

 

Jarin faced him. “I was being selfish.” He answered. “I didn’t want to be alone anymore. I thought that if I saved you, perhaps you would want to return the favour somehow and spend time with me. Perhaps I hoped that I could find a friend in you. Instead I found a brother. I made a choice that day and I haven’t regretted it since.”

 

Jon didn’t know how to respond. Jarin gave him a small smile, a most rare thing for them. “I’ll fetch us some food.” Jarin said and exited the tent. Jon grabbed the book which lay on the nearby table and sat down on a chair. Reading always had a calming effect on him. When not fighting wars, learning was how he spent most of his time. During their travels through the free cities, Jon had always searched for new books to read. He thought that the only way to combat the violent side of him was to compensate it with a more literature one. Knowledge had proven to be one of his greatest allies as he had found use of a lot of things he had read. As a young boy he loved the stories about knights and magic, but as he got older, the books he read got more and more advanced. Books detailing historic battles, texts describing strategics of previous kings and commanders, Jon had read them all. Jarin had once joked about Jon rather wanting to become a maester than a knight.

 

His moment of reading came up short as one of the men came inside his tent. “The Captain wants a word with you.” He said and quickly exited. Jon put down his book and rose from where he sat. He went outside and followed the line of tents that led to the Captain’s, its golden cloth shone under the bright sun. 

 

Jon entered the large tent and saw that the captain was alone, standing by his table and gazing over a map he was not too familiar with. Harry looked up at his arrival. He first smiled then gave out a small snicker. “When you told me that you knew of a way to bring an entire city to its knees within a night, I first thought you arrogant. Then I remembered who I was speaking to. I remembered the small boy who came to my camp and wanted to join us. The same small boy who fought and fought and lost every time, yet he still found the strength to keep standing up.” Harry came to stand a short distance away from him. “See what you have become. I promised you I would make you strong and strong you have become, in many ways. No longer are you a small little boy. Grown taller than most of my men, you have. Packing more muscle than I did in my young age. You’ve become a man, Jon. And a dangerous one as well. But I knew there was more to you than just brawn. I’ve seen your skill with a blade. Hell, I don’t believe I have seen such mastery from anyone. Though it is not your ability with a sword that interests me, it’s your mind. I see a potential in you that is most rare amongst us sellswords. I will see that we’ll make great use of you in our next mission.” 

 

“We already have a next mission?” Jon asked. They usually had some time of rest between contracts.

 

“Indeed we have. Big things are coming.” Harry said as he went and swung an arm across Jon’s shoulders, escorting him out of the tent. “And we will need every piece of strength we have.” Outside was a large group of men, all of their gazes locked onto the two of them. Jon was confused at the gathering. He saw Black Balaq standing in the crowd, smiling at him. Gorys was there. Tristan and Jarin stood close to the tent, both wore a strange smile. 

 

Harry drew his blade. “Kneel.” Jon looked puzzled at him until he realized what was happening. He bent his knee and looked up at Harry in surprise. Harry laid his blade on Jon’s right shoulder. “Jon.” He began. “Do you swear before the eyes of the gods and men to defend those who cannot defend themselves, to protect all women and children, to obey your captains, your liege lord, and your king, to fight bravely when needed and do such other tasks as are laid upon you, however hard or humble or dangerous they may be?”

 

“I do.” Jon answered. 

 

The blade shifted to his left shoulder. “Arise, Ser Jon. A new-made knight.” Jon looked up at Harry, still shocked at the situation, and rose from his kneeling position. Cheers started to fill the camp. Men came up to him and gave him a pat on the back or the shoulder, showing respect. When the cheering died down, Harry spoke up again, his voice carrying over the camp. “We have just finished our contract, but this is no time for rest. Our time in exile is coming to its end, folks. Our inevitable return to the lands of the west is upon us.” His words were met with a shocked reaction from everyone. “Our home is Westeros, it has always been. That’s where most of us were born and that's where we will all return. A couple of days ago I received word from the last remnants of the Targaryen family. Rhaegar Targaryen seeks to reclaim the iron throne from the man who usurped it. The dragons requires our services. It’s time, my brothers. It’s time to come home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jon may seem to be quite brooding as of now, but it will be shown in later chapters that he has lighter sides as well. My goal is to make both him and Daenerys as interesting as they can be. Of course that goes for the other characters as well, but this story, in its heart, is about Jon and Dany.
> 
> How I imagine Jon in his golden company armour, but with black hair: http://i.imgur.com/sc8cx20.jpg  
> Dany with Balerion: https://www.deviantart.com/paulrenaud/art/Game-of-Thrones-color-378890847  
> All credit to the artists of these pictures, which are not mine.


	10. The Return

**_Tywin Lannister III_ **

 

“You know why you have been summoned here.” Tywin addressed to the small council. “Rhaegar Targaryen has set sail from Essos and is on his way here. If our information is correct, he comes with a force of thirty thousand men. And as you certainly have heard, three dragons as well.” Some of the lords shook their heads and some started to chatter amongst themselves.  _ How easily they cower _ , Tywin thought with a sneer. Lord Stannis was one of the few that kept his cold demeanor.

 

“The dragons are of but an age of five.” Stannis said. “These are mere younglings compared to the ones Aegon brought when he first took Westeros and even those could be killed. 

 

Lord Mace Tyrell leaned forward in his seat. “What happens when the dragons grow big enough to be a serious threat? What are we to do when they come burning down our castles?” He asked. 

 

“We face such struggles if they become a problem.” Tywin answered. “Our priority is to make sure that it won’t come to that. The Targaryens needs to be wiped out as soon as possible. Without them the dragons will be easier subdued and taken care of, permanently.” 

 

“Do we know where he will lay anchor?” Lord Stannis asked. 

 

“No, not yet.” Tywin answered. “The alliances formed nineteen years ago needs to be enforced. We cannot risk Rhaegar gaining any more allies.”

 

“There are still Lords in the kingdoms that holds to the past,” Varys said. “Those who chose to stand with the Mad King still remain loyal to the dragons.” Tywin knew very well who those lords were. They had tried to challenge him when his reign started to cut down on their power. Why would he benefit those who tried to stop him?

 

“They will be dealt with accordingly.” Tywin said. “Our first priority is to make sure our forces are ready for Rhaegar’s first strike.”

 

“What about the north?” Kevan asked. “They have been laying awfully low as of late.”

 

“Perhaps they grew too tired of fighting?” Lord Mace said.

 

“The Starks and the Targaryens were bound by marriage before.” Stannis pointed out. “The only thing that held them back during the rebellion was the Mad King, who is now dead. If the wolves and the dragons joined arms they could be attacking us from both ways.”

 

“Any words from the north, Spider?” Tywin asked.

 

“I’m afraid not.” Varys answered. “It has been awfully quiet. If there were any intentions of marching south they have left no proof of it.”

 

“Find out what you can.” Tywin said. “And the rest of you, make sure your armies are ready for war. We all swore a vow nineteen years ago that a Targaryen would never sit on the Iron Throne again, it’s time to uphold it.”

  
  


**_Jon VII_ **

 

“It feels strange.” Jarin said. “I never thought I would set foot in Westeros once in my life.”

 

“Are you already missing the warm weather?” Jon asked as he worked with getting the tent up. As a member of the Golden Company, setting up quick and elaborate camps were a habit. It would only take them a day to have a campsite ready and fully functional. 

 

“I can handle the harsh weather.” Jarin said. “I just hope we won’t have to venture far to the north. I hear the snow is not as forgiving as the climate we are used to.”

 

“I wouldn’t mind the cold.” Jon said. 

 

“Well, they did call you the wolf back when we were younger. Probably got an invisible cloth of fur lined around you.” Jarin said.

 

Jon stopped what he was doing and looked at his friend. “Invisible cloth of fur? What the hell have you been drinking?”

 

“Out of all the things I have said in my life, that is somehow the strangest thing to you?”

 

“It’s at least in the top five.” Jon said and continued with the tent. 

 

“Top five? So what, you keeping a list or something?” Jarin asked and walked over to the other side of the tent to set up the base of it. 

 

“Life gets boring sometimes. Got to find something to pass the time with.” Jon said.

 

“Alright, let’s hear it. Name the top five, not including what I just said.” Together they both raised the tent and started to pack everything inside.

 

Jon thought for a moment. “Well… ah, there was this one time, we had just finished a contract, I believe our third, and you thought it wise to impress this girl after a night of drinking. You asked her if she wanted to go back to your tent and bath in gold as you showered her in berries.”

 

“I don’t remember I said that.” Jarin said.

 

“Well you came back to us right after it happened and told us every little detail. Must have been to drunk to remember. At least I hope so, for no sober man would try that line with a girl and think he would succeed.” Jon said and threw his heavy bag into the tent. “Oh, now this one is much better.” Jon continued. “You remember when you wandered too close to the elephants? And you said-”

 

“Alright, alright. I got it, you don’t have to carry on. And by the way, Jon, fuck you!” Jon only laughed at the insult and went to grab some food. 

 

Sailing across the narrow sea had been a long journey, especially with the amount of ships they sailed with. It was just a couple of days ago that they had came ashore in the Stormlands, to a place called Rainwood at Cape Wrath, with ten thousand men and more coming. Not all of them were of the Golden Company. There were other soldiers as well that Jon was familiar with. The reputation of the unsullied is hard to not come by. He had not seen any sight of their clients as of yet, nor the much spoken of dragons, though he knew that they were both here close by. Men had spoken of figures high up in the skies, too large to be any bird. 

 

Jon walked along the encampment and spotted Tristan and Chains sitting by a fire, fresh meat hanging above the flames. “Got any to spare?” Jon asked. 

 

“Go ahead, we will be honored to have such pleasant company with us.” Chains said and gestured for Jon to sit on a log that had been carried over. He was a tall man known for wearing chains across his chest. In battle he went armed with a whip instead of the usual sword, which consisted of heavy linked iron that stretched to five feet. 

 

“That’s strange, is Chains finally getting some manners?” Jon said as he sat down next to Tristan. 

 

“Nah, he’s just happy that I spared him some wine.” Tristan answered and checked the meat. 

 

“You both can go fuck yourselves.” Chains grunted and took a chug from the wine pouch.

 

“Well that didn’t last long.” Tristan said with a roll of his eyes. 

 

Soon a few more came to join them around the fire, hoping to fill their stomachs. Jarin was the last to arrive and by then they had all started to eat. Jarin was handed a bowl by Tristan.

 

“Kind of ironic this whole situation.” Tristan said as he put down his bowl. “Soon a hundred years ago the Golden Company fought alongside the Blackfyres against the Targaryens and here we are, crossing the narrow sea to fight with them instead.”

 

“What does it matter which dragon we fight for.” Chains said. “Bittersteel and the Blackfyres never succeeded in taking back Westeros. This is the best chance of ever fulfilling the dream of home.”

 

“Indeed.” Young John Mudd said. “Who would have thought that real dragons would ever return to this world.”

 

“It’s strange, I have yet to see the beasts as of yet.” Jarin said. “One would believe they are easy to spot.”

 

“The Targaryen princess keeps them close to her.” Chains said. “If the rumors are true, she walked into the fire herself with the eggs and came out with three newborn dragons. She calls them her children and she their mother.”

 

“That’s some story.” Tristan said. “There seems to be quite a lot of rumors surrounding the princess.”

 

“And what more do they say about her?” Jarin asked.

 

“They say she is the most beautiful woman to ever walk this earth.” Young John Mudd said.

 

“Don’t they say that about every princess?” Jarin said.

 

“I have yet to see her,” Tristan said. “But it is said getting reborn from the fire has only refined what was already there and the valyrians are known for their… looks.”

 

“How does one walk into fire and not get burnt?” Jarin asked. 

 

“Don’t ask me.” Tristan said. “There are many strange things in this world that I have yet to understand.” 

 

The men grew quiet for a moment.

 

“Mother of dragons,” Chains muttered. “It’s quite a name. One wonders how much she lives up to it.”

  
  


**_Daenerys Targaryen VI_ **

 

“Don’t hold back on me, Barristan.” Dany said, panting. 

 

“Understood, your Grace.” Ser Barristan answered and swung his blade towards her. Dany blocked it with her own sword and continued with a series of blows against her sparring partner. 

 

“Watch your feet, Princess. If your feet don’t work, soon you won’t either.” Dany kept her feet moving and focused on breaking his defence, but he wasn’t a kingsguard for nothing.

 

A couple of years ago, Dany had convinced Ser Barristan to begin sword training with her. Ever since hatching the dragons, she had a surplus of energy and nothing seemed to be able to quell it. That’s when she thought about how she could better prepare for the war to come. If she was to fight in battle, she had better learned to use a sword. She had switched her usual dresses for breeches and sought out her trainer.

 

They were at the outskirt of their camp where they could train without eyes on them. Balerion laid on the grass some distance away, his eyes focused on them while his brothers were away and hunted for food. She knew for she felt the thrill of the chase as her dragons hunted down their prey and cooked it with their flames. The bond between her and the dragons fueled her with strength and she kept fighting harder and harder. “Don’t hold back!” She forced out as she blocked one of Barristan’s blows. “C’mon, fight me!” Dany lost track of her feet and after deflecting his sword, she fell to the ground. 

 

Balerion, the ever watchful guardian, was quick to react and rose from his position to stride over towards Ser Barristan. Dany saw him coming from the corner of her eye, so did Ser Barristan. She pushed herself off the ground and made way to stand in front of the kingsguard, shielding him from her son.

 

“No!” She told him, sternly, and reached out a hand signalling him to stop. Balerion came to a halt a short distance away from them, but did not seem to relax, his eyes narrowed towards Ser Barristan. “I’m okay.” She told the dragon in valyrian. Balerion growled in response, but listened and backed off. He returned to lay in the grass, but not as far away like before. “I think that’s enough for today.” Dany told Ser Barristan.

 

“Agreed.” He answered. 

 

Dany went to pick up the scabbard for her training blade that she had laid on the grass and sheathed her sword. The blade was simple and dull edged, but her own sword back in the tent were made of excellent workmanship. The hilt was pitch black and decorated with rubies laid in a line along its length. It was a shorter blade compared to the one Ser Barristan used, but it fitted her stature far better. Dany was not particularly short, but the sword abled her to be far more agile. 

 

As she packed her stuffs, she thought back to the armour that the smith had prepared for her back in Essos. It followed the design of her blade; a black suit of slick light armour, not too heavy, but it would serve its purpose. She had been very pleased with it when it was first presented to her. The smith had gone out of his way to make sure it was fit for a Targaryen, designing it as if it was built of dragon scales. 

 

When she was done packing her stuff and was on her way to camp, she noticed Viserys standing not far away, leaning on a tree. She picked up her stuff and walked over to him. 

 

“Training going well?” He asked. 

 

“Very.” She answered. 

 

“Perhaps we should spar some time. To see how much you have learnt.” He said.

 

“Perhaps we should.” Dany said. Viserys gave her a brief smile. It made her immediately suspicious. 

 

“There is something we need to talk about.” He said. “You told me that I would be able to bond with Meraxes, yet he does not allow me more than to touch him. I want to ride him, Dany.” 

 

“It’s not my ability to tell him what to do.” Dany said.

 

“So why is it that Rhaegar managed to ride Vhagar?”

 

“Perhaps he saw something in our brother that they do not see in you.”

 

All smiles were gone from Viserys. “And what may that be, sister?”

 

Dany had no time to play nice. “Someone to trust.”

 

Viserys stared into her eyes. “You know, we need to work together if we are to take the seven kingdoms.”

 

“You’re right. But I do not control the dragons. I am their mother and they trust me, but I cannot control them. They do as they will.”

 

“So help me gain his trust.”

 

Deep down, she did not want Viserys anywhere close to her dragons. She was far too protective of them. But he was right about one thing, they needed to work together. 

 

She had a feeling about why Meraxes hadn’t let Viserys do much more than touch him. Her mind was deeply connected with her dragons and they felt the hostile emotions she carried towards her brother. 

 

“I’ll see what I can do.” She told him, but she did not know how much she meant what she said.

 

“That’s all I ask.” Viserys said and turned around to walk back to the camp. Dany watched his retreating back. Since the dragons were born, Viserys hadn’t dared to lay as much as a hand on her. Perhaps he had noticed that she was not as forgiving anymore. If he would have done anything against her, Dany didn’t believe she would be able to stop herself from hurting him.

 

“Your Grace,” Ser Barristan said as he came up to her. “I believe it’s soon time to join the others in the big tent.” Dany nodded her response. Rhaegar had told her that he wanted her in the meeting when they first discussed their plan of invasion. They both walked back to the camp together, carrying their swords and bags. 

  
  


**_Rhaegar Targaryen VI_ **

 

The flow of the water below calmed the storm of thoughts in his mind. Rhaegar stood on a cliff gazing down at the sea below. He was back. After nineteen years of exile in foreign lands, he had finally come back. He had hoped that returning to his homelands might have eased some of his pain, but it did not. The numbness still remained after so many years. Rhaegar had accepted that he would never heal. All that was left of him to do was make sure that those responsible for the loss of his loved ones paid the price. Then, and only then, could he find peace. 

 

He wondered what would have happened if he had abandoned his father and never joined the war. He could have left with Lyanna and found a safe place where she could have their child. With proper care she could have survived. They could have grown old together. 

 

Rhaegar smiled sadly as he thought of how Lyanna would probably never accept growing old and would have stayed the wild wolf she were. She would have dragged him out on horse rides every day and had him chase her. And their son… he would have been grown up by now. He would have already become a man. Rhaegar never even got to see him.  _ Jaehaerys _ they had planned to name the child if he was a boy. He wondered what he would have looked like. Would he have had his silver hair and violet eyes, or her stark black hair and grey eyes? Those are the thoughts that plagued him every day. 

 

Rhaegar left the cliff and walked towards the camp. He noticed looks from men of the Golden Company as he passed them and strided towards the big tent. He entered and saw that his siblings was already there, as was Connington, Ser Barristan and Grey Worm, commander of the unsullied army. “Your Grace.” Connington greeted and bowed. 

 

“Any sign of the captain?” Rhaegar asked. 

 

“He will be here shortly.” Connington said. Rhaegar nodded and went to stand next to the round table with the Westeros map laid out. He thought back to the map room in Dragonstone. Hadn’t it been so that the great castle of his ancestors was too heavily protected they would have stood there instead. Now the place was under the Baratheons command. 

 

“When is the next set of ships to arrive?” Rhaegar asked again. 

 

“It will be some time, but we have enough forces to start the invasion.” Jon answered.

 

“Good.” Rhaegar said and glanced to the opening of the tent where Harry Strickland entered along with two other men. 

 

“Your Grace.” Strickland and the others greeted and bowed their head. 

 

“Good of you to join us, Captain.” Rhaegar said. “Are your men ready to start moving soon again?”

 

“Indeed they are.” He answered. “We are used to be on the move. We will go wherever we decide that we need to be.”

 

“Tell me what your forces consist of. What can we expect?” Rhaegar asked.

 

“We are twenty thousand men strong.” Strickland answered. “Including five hundred knights, a thousand archers lead by the man to my right, Black Balaq.” Rhaegar looked at the man. He had dark skin, but his hair was all white. He wore a feathered cloak of green and orange which was quite the sight. The other man who had followed him looked very much valyrian. His pale skin and pale violet eyes along with his white-gold hair struck him as a lyseni. Rhaegar thought that he looked very feminine for a man. “Arriving, we also have two dozen elephants.”

 

“I have heard about them. It is said they are your great pride.” Rhaegar said.

 

“You will see when they are brought to combat. You will not be disappointed.” The captain said. 

 

“Good. Then let’s begin.” Rhaegar said. Connington took that as his cue and stepped close to the map table. 

 

“A camp out in the Rainwood is not a place of power.” Connington started. “We need to start taking land as soon as possible to ensure our strength. There are many castles, including the one where I grew up; Griffin’s Roost, the seat of House Connington. We should start there.”

 

“So willing to take your family’s own home?” The lyseni man asked. 

 

Connington was stumped, but quick to answer. “There are no limits to what I will do to ensure that the Iron Throne returns to its true heir.” Connington said, seemingly offended.

 

“Forgive me for not introducing,” the Captain said. “This is Lysono Maar, the Company’s spymaster.” 

 

Rhaegar noticed that Connington stared at the lyseni. “Shall we continue?” He asked. Connington turned his head back to the map.

 

“As I said, Griffin’s Roost. It should be our first target, but I believe the wisest thing is to split up our forces and take the other castles as well. That includes Crow’s Nest and Rain House. It should give us some place to prepare for our second target; Storm’s End.”

 

“Storm’s End will not be an easy feat.” Ser Barristan offered.

 

“No it will not.” Rhaegar said.

 

“It’s a valuable position.” Connington said. “A perfect place for us to use as a base of operations. Besides, the other castles won’t be much of a problem. We take them and then focus the majority of our forces on Storm’s End.” 

 

“And how do you propose we do that?” Strickland asked. “Laying siege to the castle will take far too long as its defences are almost impregnable.”

 

“Luckily we have you to aid us, Captain.” Rhaegar said. “Is it not so that you took an entire city within two days of a siege? Over a night, the city fell under your golden banners. It’s told that that city was impregnable as well.”

 

“You’re right, my King. It was a stroke of luck. I don’t know if it can be done again. And it will depend on the structure of the castle’s defences.”

 

“It will not be taken by force.” Connington said. “We have to be smarter than that.”

 

“To take it under guile does seem to be the way for us to handle the situation.” Strickland agreed. 

 

“We’ll have some time to think of a plan.” Rhaegar said. “Until then, we take Griffin’s Roost, Crow’s Nest and Rain House. It’s a good start to establish our strength and gain some power here in Westeros. Will your men be able to handle this, Captain?”

 

“It’ll be our honor.” Strickland answered. 

 

“I leave that to you then. I am sure you are all tired from your journey. Rest up and tomorrow we start.”

 

Everyone, except Dany and Viserys, bowed their heads and Strickland, together with his men, left the tent. Rhaegar turned to Connington and was about to speak when a loud screech came from outside.  _ Vhagar,  _ Rhaegar thought. His eyes met Dany’s before he walked to the opening of the tent and exited. A dragon amidst a camp full of unknown soldiers was not ideal.

  
  


**_Jon VIII_ **

 

“Have you gotten yourself a horse yet?” Jarin asked as they walked along the camp.

 

“Haven’t gotten the time.” Jon answered.

 

“I think I heard that Franklyn was trying to sell off one of his horses. Ask him.” 

 

“You’re right, probably should try and get my own soon.” Jon said.

 

“You most definitely should. A knight without a horse ain’t much.” Jarin said.

 

“Perhaps you could spare me one of yours, Ser Jarin.” Jon said.

 

“You think I will give you one of my horses? Dream again, Ser Jon.”

 

Jon shook his head in amusement. It had been both their dreams to become knights and now they were. It made Jon feel quite proud that he had actually made something of himself. 

 

There was strange noises coming from ahead of them. They both looked at each other and went to see what was the cause of it. After passing a couple of tents and turning a corner, they were met with the most extraordinary thing that Jon had ever seen. Across the camp he could see a large beast next to the big tent he knew belonged to their clients. The beast had wings and scales in the color of dark green and bronze. Its long neck was extended towards a tall man with silver hair that stood in front of the big creature.  _ A living dragon,  _ Jon thought. He stood amazed at the sight. The man with the silver hair had a hand on the dragon’s snout and seemed to be talking to it, but he was too far away to hear anything. 

 

Suddenly, the dragon turned its head in Jon’s direction. It was quite some distance between him and the dragon, but even from afar he could see the strong yellow serpent eyes. Jon could not avoid the beast’s gaze. It was almost as if he was put under a spell. 

 

The dragon turned its body and started to take small steps in Jon’s direction. Its movement were slow at first, but started to walk quicker as it got closer. Jon gasped at the incoming beast and could hear a man in the distance calling for the dragon to stop.

 

The dragon was already halfway to Jon when a loud shout echoed across the camp; “Vhagar!” the man in silver hair shouted. The dragon didn’t listen and continued towards Jon in an accelerated pace. Jarin gripped his shoulder and tried to make him budge, but Jon remained motionless and stared at the dragon as it approached him. Everyone around him started to flee the scene, all except Jarin who wouldn’t leave him behind. The man in silver hair continued to shout for the dragon to stop, but it was all for naught as the beast came to stand before him. 

 

Everything else disappeared from Jon’s vision except for the yellow eyes of the dragon. The beast’s neck extended and its head came closer and closer to Jon, its eyes locked with his. Jon prepared for the worst. He had accepted death before when he was younger and he was still ready for it. But the dragon only sniffed and tilted its head as if it were inspecting him. The creature’s snout inched closer to him and Jon could feel the dragons breath. It smelled like death, but it did not repulse him. Jon did not know how long he stood there, gazing into the dragon’s eyes. Another shout was heard from behind the beast, the silver haired man had come closer. “ _ Vhagar! _ ” he shouted again. 

 

The dragon finally seemed to respond to him and turned its head towards the caller. “ _ Sōvēs!”  _ The man shouted a final time. The dragon took a last look at Jon before it stepped back and extended its wings. As it began to fly, Jon was almost pushed back by the wind as the beast took to the skies. Jon stared up at it as it flew into the distance. 

 

“Are you fucking stupid, Jon?! Why didn’t you run?” Jarin asked, vehemently. 

 

Jon didn’t answer, but turned his gaze back down to eye level and looked at the man in silver hair that had crossed halfway from the tent to deal with the dragon. He recognized the valyrian looks.  _ It’s the king. _ There was still a large distance between them, but the King stood still as he looked puzzled at Jon, almost as if he was confused at what had transpired. It felt like an eternity that they locked eyes, but soon the silver haired king turned his back and returned to the big tent. 

 

“C’mon, Jon.” Jarin said and pushed him towards the opposite direction. “Let’s get away from here.” Jon remained quiet and followed his friend as the yellow serpent eyes of the dragon laid imprinted onto his mind.


	11. First Strike

**_Jon IX_ **

 

_ The plan was simple; strike on them hard and strike on them fast. _

 

Jon stood with his new horse amongst the trees that reached as far as twenty yards from the castle’s gatehouse. They couldn’t have been better hidden as they approached Griffin’s Roost with a force of three thousand men. Connington, having extensive knowledge of the lands and the castle itself, had chosen to be present and lead the attack himself.

 

As soon as Connington gave the signal, Ser Franklyn Flowers charged with his men against the gates. With them, they carried a battering ram, a design similar to the ones they used back in the free cities. Half the amount of Black Balaq’s archers were also on the move, surrounding the castle and prepared to shoot down any raven that was sure to fly bearing a call for help. The other half followed Franklyn and provided protection from archers on the walls. The people inside the castle had no idea what hit them until the loud crash of the ram hitting the gates echoed across the area and by then it was already too late. 

 

Jon knew that Connington had expected at least some hindrance as they took his family’s home, but the gates flew open only after the second punch of the battering ram. The heavy wooden doors had not been reinforced and were merely locked. 

 

There was a look of shock in Connington’s eyes, but his commander was quick to react and signaled for the rest of the men to attack. Jon had already stepped up on his horse and was ready to charge with the rest of the men from the woods. 

 

The defenders of Griffin’s Roost were so unaware of the situation that it wasn’t until Franklyn and his men were already past the gatehouse and halfway up the narrow ridge, called the Griffin’s throat, that the warhorn sounded from the castle. Black Balaq and his archers quickly shot down two ravens that flew from the maesters tower, as well as the few guards that had appeared to try and repel their forces. 

 

It was hardly a battle. They had men using grapnels to climb the curtain wall at multiple locations and others who stormed the castle’s keep and soon the Conningtons who had lived there had no choice but to surrender to them. The taking of Griffin’s Roost had barely lasted fifteen minutes before it was already won. 

 

“I’m almost disappointed.” Jarin said as he rode up with his horse next to Jon. He almost had to agree. They hadn’t even come further than pass the main gate before the battle was already over. 

 

“Traitor!” A man yelled as he came out from the keep and into the courtyard. “You will betray your own family!?” The question directed at Connington, who just arrived on his horse. 

 

“It is not I that am the traitor, cousin.” Connington said. “You abolished me nineteen years ago. Now I have come back to reinstate the true heir to the throne.“

 

His cousin, Ronald Connington, if Jon was right, had his face twisted up in rage. “You still hold faith to those who almost destroyed our family? The Targaryens are mad, they all are!”

 

“The only one who has caused you harm is the man who sits the Iron Throne now. It was Tywin who took away our lordship and it’s he who you should vow your revenge upon, not the Targaryens.”

 

“You are blind or perhaps just stupid if you believe that’s the truth, cousin. The kingdoms have never been as peaceful as they have since the dragons ran away across the narrow sea. What you bring is only death and destruction!”

 

“You call this peace? Tywin only benefits those who benefit him and you have done nothing but to try and get into his good graces to reclaim your lordship.”

 

“I do what’s best for my family- for our family!”

 

“And I do what’s best for the kingdoms.” Connington finished and gestured for the men to take away his cousin.

 

Jon stepped off his horse and fastened its leash on a fence. If lucky, there would be room to stay within the castle walls and not camp outside with the rest of the Company until the next plan was decided and set into motion. Turning away from the horse, he saw from the corner of his eyes a new arrival in the courtyard. 

 

Frozen in place he watched the figure above the black horse confidently stride past the broken gates, escorted by a group of mounted unsullied. She wore black chainmail that sat tight to her body, its metal pieces formed as scales, and atop of that a matching black leather vest with the three-headed dragon imprinted onto it in an elegant manner. The girl had a pale face that clashed with the black attire and long silver hair that was pushed back in a ponytail and tumbled down her back with intricate braids decorating the top of her head. Jon didn’t know if he imagined it, but her hair shined so bright it gave her an angelic aura. And her eyes… Her gaze swept over the castle’s courtyard with captivating violet eyes that shone so clear that it was impossible to not look at them. She looked every bit a dragon in human form and just as much a warrior as she did a princess.

 

Jon’s eyes followed her as she came to a halt before Connington. He heard that they were talking, but could not make out what was said. She jumped off her horse and stepped inside the keep with Connington in tow. Jon had not seen many girls wear breeches instead of the usual dresses, but she did not strike him as a normal girl. 

 

“So that’s the princess.” Jarin said. It was the first time any of them had seen her and it seemed that everyone had reacted the same way Jon did.

 

“I guess so.” Jon answered, his gaze lingered at where he had last seen her. “We should help the others with securing the grounds.” Jon managed to say. Jarin agreed.

  
  


**_Daenerys Targaryen VII_ **

 

“Will your family be able to be reasoned with?” Dany asked Connington as she walked the great hall.

 

“Perhaps with time, Princess.” He answered. “As for now, I believe they would more likely spit on my face.”

 

Dany hummed her response. “The attack went by far smoother than I first believed.” She said as she drew her fingers along a table where plates of food had been discarded, probably in haste to seek protection. 

 

“Don’t believe everything will be this easy, Your Grace. The castles we are taking right now were always supposed to be a simple task. The challenges are yet to come.”

 

“Challenges like Storm’s End.” Dany stated. A castle that had never fallen to enemy hands before.

 

“Indeed.” Connington answered. 

 

“Rhaegar told me of allies not far from here. House Fell was one of the few who stood with us during the rebellion and their seat, Felwood, stands close to Storm’s End.”

 

“That’s correct. They were loyal to your father until the end.”

 

“My brother has asked of me to go meet them on his behalf, as well as other old allies. Will you be able to offer any men for me to bring with on my travels?”

 

“No one knows we are here, which means no one will come to try and recover the castle. There is no need for a large force of soldiers to stay.”

 

“Good. Tell them we ride in the morning.”

 

“As you wish, Your Grace.”

 

Dany felt her children fly towards the castle. It was proved when a dragon’s screech could be heard even within the castle walls. Always following their mother they were. Dany smiled. 

 

“I must advise that you don’t travel to the Fell’s atop of a dragon.” Connington said. “I feel as if it may send the wrong message.”

 

“Don’t fret, my Lord. I’ll go by horse. But the dragons go where they wish to go.”  _ I didn’t even tell them to come here with me,  _ Dany thought _ , yet my sons knows my way is theirs also.  _ She could see them dominating the skies through the great windows that decorated the hall. 

 

“I expected the green one, Vhagar, to remain with the King.” Connington said as he looked up at them. 

 

“It’s true that Vhagar has come to accept my brother very well, but only on my wishes.” Dany said.

 

“They are not bonded? His Grace and the dragon?”

 

“In a way. But what bond is greater than the one between a son and his mother.” They were always in her head. In her mind. The connection had gotten stronger since they passed the narrow sea as if it was in preparation for what was to come. They were still so young and vulnerable, but soon they would harden with age. Their flames would only grow hotter, their skin tougher. Their fierceness would grow wilder and so would hers. 

 

She could not deny that she looked forward to when the battle started. A part of her was almost disgusted by the idea of glorifying war, but there was such lust in her. She felt just like her dragons; hungry and craving the chase of prey. As she waited for the Golden Company to take the castle, there was a part of her that wanted them to fail so that she had a reason to mount Balerion and do it herself, but she had shaken such thoughts away. She was not to be responsible for uncalled slaughter and risk destroying the castle.  _ I have to control myself,  _ Dany thought. 

 

Perhaps making sure the dragons stayed at Griffin’s Roost would offer her some time away from their constant influence as she traveled to Felwood. She feared that she needed it, even though she did not want it. The dragons made her feel strong, unbelievably so. They made her feel good. They made her feel whole.  _ Rhaegar had been wrong when he told me people searched for their missing part in another human. I found my missing part in the fire when my eggs hatched.  _ Yet deep down she knew the dangers. The dragons were fire made flesh and their flames would do nothing but tear walls down, never rebuild them. If they were to rule the seven kingdoms, they needed to prove themselves to be good rulers instead of good killers. 

  
  


**_Rhaegar Targaryen VII_ **

 

“Your Grace.”

 

Rhaegar turned to the captain who had just entered the great hall. “Strickland.” He greeted. 

 

“I’ve just received two ravens.” Strickland said. “Both Crow’s Nest and Griffin’s Roost has been successfully taken.”

 

“And so the war begins.” Rhaegar said. Just one day ago, Rhaegar and Strickland had together led the attack on Rain House and now it was under their control. As soon as their remaining forces arrived, they would march for Storm’s End. When the Stormlands were under their rule, they could start marching west to the Reach.

 

“We have been able to take them without the news spreading it seems.” Strickland said. “Every raven sent during the sieges has been shot down, but we will not be able to remain inconspicuous for long, especially not after we march for Storm’s End.”

 

“By the time Storm’s End is taken we will have already established control over the Stormlands.” Rhaegar said. “Both my siblings are out to visit old allies that have remained loyal to us ever since the rebellion started.” They may not be as strong as they had been then, but their land and castles were still a sign of power.

 

“Have you planned on using the dragons?” Strickland asked. 

 

“Only if necessary.” Rhaegar answered. “I will not start melting castles, but when the inevitable battle starts, I believe the dragons have their use.”

 

“It’s a terrible death to die in fire.” Strickland said. “I was afraid that one of them was about to eat a knight of mine back in Rainwood.”

 

Rhaegar remembered. Vhagar had returned after a hunt and sought out either him or his sister. He had told him to fly away from the camp but something had caught the dragon’s attention. Rhaegar expected the dragon to rip the man apart as he crossed the camp. At first, he couldn’t see what happened, the large wings covered most of the scene, but when Vhagar flew away, he saw that the man had survived, unscratched. Something like it had never happened before. No one dared venture close to the dragons and the beasts kept to themselves, with the exception of Daenerys and himself. The dragons were intelligent, perhaps he had sensed something hostile about the man. “Who was he?” Rhaegar asked. 

 

“Don’t know much about the guy, honestly.” Strickland said. “He came to me about five years ago along with his brother. They don’t talk much about their background, but why would I care, they get the job done and they do it extremely well. Never have I seen two men fight as they do. There's been no battle when neither of them hasn’t returned with blood dripping from head to toe. And believe me, the blood does not come from them. The guy is smart and wickedly good with a sword. He was the one responsible for the swift siege that you mentioned a couple of days ago at the meeting. The job even got him knighted by myself.”

 

“You seem to carry great talent under your command.” Rhaegar said. 

 

“The Golden Company consists of exiles, lost and discarded men. Alone they are nothing, but together they make to be one of the greatest forces you can find.”

 

“You grew up with the Company?”

 

“Indeed I did. My grandfather fought with the first Blackfyre rebellion. I was born and raised in exile.”

 

“Still you don’t see Essos as your home?”

 

“Never. The dream of coming home to Westeros was passed down to my father and it plagued him just as much as it did his father. And now it plagues me. I do not want to die fighting meaningless wars amongst the free cities anymore. I have gained enough gold to live happily ever after with no need to work again. But that was never the point of the Golden Company. It started as a way for Bittersteel to take the seven kingdoms for he too wanted to go home. I will see that the dream comes to pass.”

 

“A man with a dream.” Rhaegar stated. “I first thought you only filled with greed.”

 

“A man can be both. Believe me, when the kingdoms are taken and my exile is but a forgotten memory, I will spend every little piece of gold I have to live the rest of my life in luxury here in Westeros.”

 

“Seems like a good plan.” Rhaegar said.

 

“Indeed it does. What about you, my King? What do you see in your future?” Strickland asked. 

 

_ Death, _ Rhaegar thought,  _ death of those who took my heart.  _ He could not say that he had no will to wear the crown, it may discourage the captain from following him into battle. The throne would pass to his family, yes, but it would not be his. He only had one desire; kill Tywin Lannister and take everything from him, just like he took everything from Rhaegar. He would see to that House Lannister would be forgotten in history. There shall be no legacy of the usurper left in the world when Rhaegar was done conquering the seven kingdoms. When the throne returned to his family and his revenge was fulfilled, he could finally move on. At least that was what he told himself. 

 

Rhaegar’s answer was short. “Fire and blood.”

  
  


**_Daenerys Targaryen VIII_ **

 

The seat of House Fell was not far from Griffin’s Roost, making it for a swift journey. Dany had changed her chainmail and leather vest for a more sophisticated dress in the red color of her house. She had done everything to appear as presentable as possible. She would be kind, sweet and charming to them. 

 

Connington had spared her two thousand soldiers to accompany her, including numerous knights. They were still on enemy grounds and so close to Storm’s End, the seat of House Baratheon. If they were to be attacked, they at least had the men to fight back. 

 

The dragons were left back in Griffin’s Roost. It was hard to explain to them that they could not follow. She felt like she betrayed not just them, but herself. There was so much about her that identified with the dragons, but for the first time in a long while, the bloodlust that had been growing inside her had ceased. The connection to the dragons was not as strong when she was far away from them. There was a calmness to her that hadn’t been there before, not since she was fourteen years old and she started to have the dragon dreams. 

 

She had ordered the men to stop some time ago to send a raven. It was better to arrive expected, otherwise, the Fell’s would see a great force of soldiers on their doorstep and fear the worst. The contents of the letter had been simple; House Targaryen has returned to reclaim the iron throne, as was their right. The old alliances are to be reinstated.

 

It didn’t take long until riders were approaching them from Felwood. Dany waited for them at their temporary camp some distance away from the castle. 

 

“Your Grace.” The rider in the front said and bowed his head. “House Fell would be honored to invite you to Felwood and be our guest.”

 

“I’ll gladly accept that invitation.” Dany told the rider.

 

“If you leave your soldiers here, they will be taken care of shortly. I’m afraid we did not expect your arrival.”

 

“No fear.” Dany answered. “My visit won’t take long.” The rider bowed his head again and turned his horse around to return to the castle.

 

Dany looked to Ser Franklyn Flowers. “As I said, this won’t take long.” She told him. “Before nightfall, we’ll be on our feet again.” The knight bowed his head in understanding. 

 

She stepped up on her horse, gestured for her small escort of unsullied to follow her and rode for Felwood.  

 

The gates were immediately opened as she approached them. The lord of the castle stood inside, awaiting her. “Greetings Princess!” He said as she came to a halt with her horse. “My name is Harwood Fell. It’s my honor to have a member of House Targaryen within my walls.”

 

“The honor is all mine.” Dany said with a smile and stepped off her horse.

 

Lord Fell came up to her and reached for her hand to plant a kiss upon her knuckles. “This way, Your Grace.” He said and led the way to the castle’s keep “I believe there is much for us to discuss.” Her small escort of unsullied followed her every step. 

 

“There have been rumors of your family returning to Westeros,” Lord Harwood said. “but I did not know if they were true. Did you arrive recently? Considering that no one has heard about your arrival.”

 

“We only came ashore almost a week ago.” Dany said. “My brother and his advisors deemed it wise to remain hidden until we have a strong position in these lands.”

 

“Ah, smart indeed.” Lord Harwood said. “This is your first time in Westeros?”

 

“Yes. I have looked forward to this moment for a long time.” Dany answered. She had been told all her life about Westeros. The culture, the houses, the lords and its many tales, she had heard it all. When she was younger, it was simply something she had been told by others, but as she got older and understood her role in the world, she actively searched for more knowledge. She may never have been here before, but she was far from clueless. 

 

“And is it true?” Lord Harwood asked again. “About the dragons?”

 

“Very.” Dany said with a look straight into his eyes. She thought his reaction strange. The mention of dragons had caused him some fear.

 

“And are they here with you?” He asked as they entered the castle’s courtyard. 

 

Dany did not know what to answer. The whole situation had set her at unease. “No. I feared you might have gotten the wrong impression if I brought them with me.”

 

The man seemed relieved. “Oh, I understand.” He answered simply. She looked around the courtyard and saw that guards were standing in every corner, as well as upon the castle walls. The whole place was heavily guarded. Too much so, Dany thought. Men had their hands ready at their scabbards and had their eyes locked on her and her escort. 

 

Dany stopped. Lord Harwood looked back at her, confused. “Your Grace?” He said, nervously. She noticed that the guards were on high alert as if they would be ready to strike any second. 

 

“My intent here is purely diplomatic, my Lord.” Dany told him.

 

“Of course, Your Grace. What else might it be?” Lord Harwood said. She noticed that he did not know what to do with his hands as he kept trying to find a natural pose. He was far too twitchy for her liking. They stared at each other for what felt like a long time. When Lord Harwood gulped and raised his hand, signaling for his guards, she knew it was a trap.

 

“Dovoghedi!” Dany shouted and her escort of unsullied was quick to surround her, but guards had already struck some of them down when their backs had been turned. The human shield around her was quickly broken and the unsullied struggled to fill the gap when guards stormed the courtyard and surrounded them. Dany almost tried to reach for a sword at her hip that she had been used to carry, but she had tried too hard to be sophisticated for her diplomatic errand and forgone it. Arrows were fired from above and unsullied tried their best to shield themselves and her, but there were too many of them and they were too few. Dany picked up a spear from a fallen unsullied and stabbed a guard that was trying to grab her. She managed to kill two before a pair of arms captured her in their hold. She kicked and tried to hit the guard, but it was to no avail when the last of her unsullied fell down and another guard came to help subdue her. 

 

“You traitor!” She yelled at Lord Harwood. “You will regret this, this I swear!”

 

“Forgive me, Princess, but I am loyal to the crown.” Lord Harwood said.

 

“You betrayed us!” She shouted as the two guards brought her closer to the Lord of the castle. 

 

“Our alliance ended nineteen years ago when your family ran from Westeros. We lost so much during the rebellion. Our only way of staying alive was to accept that we had a new ruler.” As she listened to him speak, her mind was desperately calling for her dragons. She wanted him dead. She wanted him to burn. She wanted to do it herself.

 

“Your a dead man!” Dany shouted at him. “When my dragons come, and they will, I will burn you alive! With fire and blood I will see that your house is cleansed from existence.”

 

“As you said, your dragons are not here.” Lord Harwood said. She tried with all her might to signal for her children through their bond but was met with silence. She could not feel their presence with her.

 

“I have two thousand men outside your walls,” Dany said. “they are all loyal to me!”

 

“They will do nothing, for if they do, their princess will lose her head.”

 

Rage filled Dany. “Coward!” She spat. 

 

“Bring her to the cellars.” Lord Harwood said and gestured for the soldiers to remove her. 

 

Dany struggled and fought all the way until she was thrown behind locked bars. All the time there were only three words that echoed through her head.  _ Fire and blood. Fire and blood. _

  
  


**_Jon X_ **

 

Night was soon upon them and the Princess had yet to come back. It did not sit right with Jon. If her attitude was anything to judge on, she had strong intent on finishing her business as quick as possible. He hadn’t spoken with her, only observed from a distance as he rode a couple of yards behind. The dragons he hadn't seen since they left Griffin’s Roost. A lot of the men feared them, but Jon couldn't help but be amazed. Only in his dreams did he imagine seeing dragons, but there they were, alive and just as magnificent as the books from his younger days had portrayed them. 

 

Jon had to admit that the dragons were not the only thing that had caught his eyes. Back in Rainwood, when he and the others had discussed rumors of the princess, he had barely listened to their ramblings, but he remembered everything they said. Tristan had said that the girl walked into a fire and came out with three newborn dragons. He had also said that the fire had changed her. Jon couldn’t help but notice that the shining silver hair and glowing violet eyes seemed almost magical.  _ Perhaps there were more than three dragons that emerged from the fire that day,  _ Jon thought.  _ Who but a dragon could give birth to another. _

 

From his spot at the camp, where he leaned on a tree, Jon saw a group of riders approaching them. He first thought that the Princess was finally returning, but he did not see the silver hair amongst them. “Riders!” Jon alerted the others. Franklyn was immediately on his feet and went to greet whoever was coming. 

 

The riders were the same men that came before and had invited the Princess to the castle. They halted their horses a short distance away from them. 

 

“Soldiers of House Targaryen!” The rider in the front addressed. “You have orders to lay down your arms and await further instructions.”

 

_ Something was wrong,  _ Jon thought. The riders were far more hostile than before. They were also in a larger number, as if they feared a threat.

 

“Tell me, why would we do that?” Franklyn asked casually. “We do not take orders from you.”

 

“If you do not cooperate with Lord Harwood’s wishes,” The rider said. “the Princess will lose her head.”

 

_ She walked into a trap. _

 

“I warn you,” Franklyn said. “if you do not release the Princess now, I’m afraid your castle will not stand for long.”

 

“If you attack us, the Princess dies.” The rider said. Jon sized the men up and thought about striking them down, but he did not know how that would have benefited them. He had never dealt with a hostage situation before. Jon only knew how to kill, not how to save. “Men will come in the morning with new orders for you.” 

 

“You are making a mistake.” Franklyn told him. 

 

“We are protecting these lands from foreign invaders.” The rider countered. 

 

Before the riders turned their horses around and returned to the castle, Franklyn spoke up again. “Do you know the words of House Targaryen, my fellow soldier?” The rider looked at him but was quiet. “Fire and blood.” Franklyn said. “Consider that my one and only advice.”

 

The rider did not respond and turned his horse in the other direction and rode for Felwood.

 

Franklyn turned back to the camp, his head shaking. “Fuck!” He shouted, venting his frustration. He looked at Black Balaq who stood nearby. “We need to make sure no ravens leave that castle.” Franklyn told him.

 

“My men are already on their way.” Black Balaq said, calmly. “They won’t be seen.” 

 

As the knights and sergeants gathered started a heated discussion about what they should do, Jon went back to the tree he had been leaning on before and gazed over at the castle. He stood there all night, not moving an inch, his mind deep in thought. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story is starting to amp up.
> 
> Over 500 kudos on this story, thank you! 
> 
> All comments & kudos are greatly appreciated and are highly motivating!


	12. A Promise

**_Daenerys Targaryen IX_ **

 

_ The sun rose and filled the large marble room with the day’s first tender stream of light. The silken sheets were soft, as if laying on a cloud, and smelled of roses. From the balcony; the cool gentle wind felt soothing against her warm skin. _

 

_ Turning her head to the other side of the bed, she found another occupant. A man, who at the sight of him, filled her with joy. His back was turned to her, hiding his face in the pillow. _

 

_ Rousing him with a hand on his shoulder, the man turned to her, but the features of his face remained under a shifting shadow. A hand reached up to cup her cheek, the thumb drawing soothing circles as the tiredness from his eyes faded away. _

 

_ Pushed onto her back, the man climbed up on top of her. Nothing but naked skin separating their bodies from one another. She smiled. A careless, happy smile as her heart filled with warmth. She felt the softest touch of his lips against hers as his hand traveled along her body, eliciting dangerous moans in its path. _

 

_ She was happy. _

 

Dany woke from the sounds of footsteps and loud voices echoing around the cellar. Gone was the usual tiredness that followed one’s rest - replaced with the anxiousness of what’s coming as two guards appeared in front of her cell. “Lord Harwood wants a word.” One of them said and unlocked the door.  _ Couldn’t even come down here himself, _ she thought.

 

She rose and followed them out of the cell, from which they escorted her up to the ground level and then up another pair of stairs - leading to the next floor. The sun had already gone down by then, leaving the many castle halls empty except for the few guards.

 

They soon stopped in front of a heavy wooden door, knocked, then entered - revealing a large spacious room with numerous paintings on the walls and a floor decorated in carpets of rich fabrics. They dragged Dany inside and saw Lord Harwood standing at the other side of the room next to a desk with stacks of letters, along with many guards. She wondered if they were all for her, for if that was the case, she almost felt flattered it took so many for him to feel safe. Again, the guards dragged Dany by the arms towards Lord Harwood, but she wiggled out off their grip and walked the distance herself with her head held high, bearing a cold and stoic face.

 

“Ah, Daenerys. I hope I did not wake you.” Lord Harwood said.

 

Dany showed no reaction, choosing instead to remain motionless with a glare. Holding his gaze, the intensity became too much for him as he tried to look anywhere but her eyes. “I need you to do something for me.” He said. “I want you to write a letter to your brother where you tell him about the situation. You will also beg him to comply with my wishes if he wants to see his sister again."

 

It was quiet for a moment as Dany stared at him incredulously. “Who do you think you are?” She asked with a shaking head. “Your fate is sealed. Death is your only future.”

 

“You, my Princess, are in no position to threaten me.” Lord Harwood said, punctuating each word.

 

“Threaten?” Dany asked with a raise of her eyebrows. “No, my Lord. I do not make threats. I make promises.”

 

“Are you saying I have a seer in front of me?” Lord Harwood said with a laugh. “When I called for you I expected you to beg for your life, but you really seem to want to die.”

 

“A dragon does not beg,” Dany answered. She smiled inwardly when he still had trouble meeting her gaze. Even when faced with death, she would never yield to him.

 

“You know… “ Lord Harwood started. ”I’m starting to doubt this whole rumor of dragons being reborn. I think it’s all a farce to spread fear amongst the people. For that is all you were ever good for - spreading fear. Your ancestors and their dragons. When you lost them you had to improvise something new and your father, the Mad King, thought burning people alive would be a good compromise.”

 

The effect of his words did nothing but make her irritated. It was only four days ago that she struggled with bloodlust and the need to constrain those cravings, but gone is the control. At that moment, there could be nothing more satisfying than ripping the man apart and watching him suffer.

 

“No answer?” He asked. “Perhaps now that I have uncovered your lies, you’re afraid for you have nothing left to shield yourself with - no threats or lies to hide behind.” Lord Harwood had a smirk on his face as if he had beaten her at some game.

 

Not dignifying his words with a response, she stood her ground, proud and confident, and held his gaze. It didn’t last long before he couldn’t take the intensity behind her eyes any longer, choosing instead to look at the table next to him. “Here I have a clean letter and ink.” He said. “You will write what I say.”

 

“No,” Dany answered.

 

Lord Harwood looked at her irritated. “You will write or die.” He threatened.

 

Now it was Dany’s time to smirk. “You cannot kill me. If I die - you have no leverage. Without me, nothing stands in the way for my soldiers to barge through your gates and slaughter every single one of your men.” A win. Stumped and at a loss of words, Lord Harwood gulped as his last pieces of confidence drained from his face. But instead of growing nervous, an ugly smile took its place.

 

“You are a beautiful girl, Daenerys.” Lord Harwood said after a while. “I must admit so myself. Never have I laid eyes upon such raw, untamed beauty.” He paused. “Hadn’t it been so that I am loyal to my wife... I would have gladly taken part in what’s to come.” Her eyes never left his as she held her stoic image, but couldn’t help the feeling of dread that crept up her skin. “My men here will surely have a good time.” Dany breathed hard through her nose so she could keep her face, not offering him any signs of fear. A dragon does not fear.

 

“This is your last chance, Daenerys.” He warned as he came closer. “Write, or I’ll leave you here with the guards for the night where I’ll let them do what they want with you.”  _ A dragon does not fear. _ “It would be a shame for a girl like you to be handled that way.”  _ A dragon does NOT fear. _

 

Lord Harwood sighed at her unresponsiveness. “If that’s your wish then.” He said and walked past her. She heard him walk towards the door and then the sound of it closing, shutting her inside.

 

At first there was only the sound of her own breath, then the stomping of boots coming closer and a hand reaching for her side, but Dany was quick to stomp on the guard’s foot and knock him to the ground. Though her ability to fight stopped there as another guard pushed her onto the table - the harsh landing making her lose her breath. The three quickest to approach took off their helmets and revealed the looks of hungry men. Grabbing onto her arms and pinning her to the table, they drooled about how much they wanted her. She fought and struggled violently. Her mind kept racing through the different scenarios of what would follow as they grasped at her breast and caressed her hair. She tried everything to fight back, even resorting to biting - which only aggravated the guards more as one of them gripped her throat. With her pinned down hands, she scrambled the table for anything to use as a weapon, but it proved fruitless. The two men had their hands all over her, and she just looked up to see a sword cut through both of the men’s throats.

 

The violating hands on her body stopped. Drops of blood ran down her face as the heads, belonging to the two men above, fell off and toppled to the ground. Looking up she saw the third guard, still wearing his helmet, with his blade drawn and poised to the side as if he had just swung it.

 

What followed went by like a blur. The remaining guards in the room, who were on their way to take part in the assault on her, had drawn blades to attack the one who had just decapitated two of his own. All of them wore the same armor and helmets, making it difficult to tell them apart amongst the clashing of swords. The only thing that separated them was the one guard whose skillful movements were quicker and stronger as he cut through his own men. There had been five on him at once and they all fell within moments of fighting. Soon they all lay on the carpeted floor in pools of blood, except for the one who stood victorious; the one guard who had killed everyone else.

 

The guard cleaned the blood off from his sword with his sleeve, sheathed it, then turned to her. Still in shock and struggling to breathe clearly, Dany remained frozen as if the guard were still pinning her arms to the table; immobilizing her.

 

Approaching her, the guard offered her a gloved hand. She tried to see his face, but the helmet covered everything except for the mouth and eyes.

 

Dany tried to speak, but there were no words coming out. “Follow me.” The guard said. “I know the way out.”

 

 _Was this a trick?_ She thought. _Was this a dream?_ _Had I passed out during the assault?_ For the first time since her dragons hatched, she felt weak and scared. Vulnerable.

 

“Quick!” The guard urged but did not touch her, just held his hand out for her to grab.

 

Taking the offered hand, she was gently pulled up on her weak feet. His eyes traveled along her body, but not in the way the other guards had. It seemed he only wanted to check for injuries. “We need to move.” He said when satisfied and turned to the door. Convincing herself that she was in control of her body, she followed.

 

The guard opened the door, peeked out for any sign of company, then stepped out and told her to follow. She followed with small, careful steps as he led her down the corridors, a different path to the one earlier, checking each corner before moving on.

 

The shock of the previous event started to fade away, making it easier to keep up with his faster steps, but her focus was still not there yet. She had managed to walk up alongside him, but without taking the necessary precautions the man beside her did, she turned a corner and almost came face to face with three guards coming their way. Before being spotted, Dany was grabbed, pulled back behind the corner and into an empty room. The swift movements were too fast, and she fell against the man’s chest, who caught her in a protective embrace.

 

They listened as the guards passed through the hall, making a loud noise as they laughed at some joke. When the halls grew silent and the danger passed, she glanced up at the breath of relief that came from above. He was a tall man, perhaps Rhaegar’s height. The helmet made it hard to see any features of the face, but it was impossible to not lay notice to the most grey eyes she had ever seen as he looked down at her. There was a moment when they just gazed into each other's eyes, momentarily forgetting the situation they were in. She felt a calmness sweep over her as she stared into the strong grey orbs.

 

The moment broke when the man dropped his arms around her. "C' mon," He said and pushed her to the door and out of the room. Back in the hall, a swift turn to the right followed by another turn to the left, brought them to a set of stairs that led down onto the ground floor and then out to the courtyard. The number of guards had severely decreased since the day before, but there was no way to continue to the gates without getting caught.

 

To her surprise, the man led her down a path close to the walls that enabled an inconspicuous journey across the courtyard. The whole plan was expertly thought out, everything from the location of the guards to the crooks and corners that served as good hiding places from watchful eyes.

 

Hidden behind a box, the man picked up a carefully placed cloak. “Put it on.” He said. The large cloak almost drowned her in its size and heavy fabric. The man helped stuff the strands of hair that peeked out from the pulled up hood to make sure there was nothing that could identify her.

 

From their position, there was a clear vision of the barred gates. “At any moment now, there will be men riding out of the gates to meet with the soldiers back at the camp. I will lead you to your horse.” He said, indicating to the stables which lay directly to their right. “As soon as the gates open and the riders are gone, you follow them out and ride for the camp. Is that understood?”

 

Dany nodded. “But what if-”

 

“Is that understood?” The man quickly interrupted with a raised voice. Dany nodded once again, but this time refrained from questioning.

 

There were two men outside the stables who were just exiting. When the coast cleared, the man shot up from behind the box. “Keep yourself hidden as best you can.” He whispered back to her as she followed.

 

Inside the stables it was easy to locate her horse, who was already saddled and ready to go. The mare neighed in greeting, but Dany had to shush it before the sound gave them away.

 

The loud voices and sound of hooves from outside showed that the riders were ready to depart at any moment. Dany straddled the horse and saw the man do the same. “I’m to ride out with the others.” He said, spurring his horse forward. “Remember, all you need to do is ride for the camp. Nothing else.” There was never enough time to answer or question the plan before he had already gone.

 

The entrance to the stables offered a clear vision of the gates, where ten men waited to ride out. Even a skilled rider would find it hard to escape them if chased, though there was nothing else to do but to trust the man’s words, no matter how much it felt like riding out to certain death.

 

The shouting went louder and soon she saw the gates get unbarred. Dany took a deep breath in preparation. The gates swung open and the men rode out.  _ There’s my chance. _ Dany spurred her own horse forward and her mount sprung out from the stables. There was a guard in her way, but without slowing down, the horse went straight through and violently pushed him to the ground. There was shouting from atop the walls as the horns blew for her to stop, but she kept going faster and faster, her hood falling off from the wind; revealing her silver hair. Guards went to stop her, but they were too late. Dany rode past them and through the opened gates. She was out.

  
  


The riders ahead glanced back at the commotion and started to turn around when they suddenly started to fall down from their horses in cries of pain - a sword glistening in the moonshine. The chaos gave her enough time to ride past them while they struggled.

 

Focused on riding for the camp, she couldn’t help but glance to the group of riders behind, who quickly got fewer and fewer as one of them struck down the rest with his blade. What was once a group of ten riders quickly got reduced to four.

 

Far ahead, another group of riders dressed in gold approached from above the hill where the camp laid. As the distance shortened, they slowed down and turned to ride alongside her. “Your Grace!” A man shouted through the wind. “Follow us!” Recognizing them as knights of the Golden Company, she allowed herself to be escorted, but not without glancing back again at the man who saved her.

 

Gone were all the riders except for the one guard who came their way. There was no real way of telling if the man was her savior or an enemy, but something deep down told her it was the former. Slowing down, she allowed the man to catch up with the escort.

 

“Why are you slowing down?” He shouted over the wind when close enough.

 

“Just ensuring you won’t get shot down,” Dany called back, indicating to the armor of a now enemy house.

 

It wasn’t long until they arrived at the camp where dozens of knights and soldiers stood to wait. She tried to keep track of the man who saved her, but it proved difficult when the escort of knights came surrounding her like a protective shield. “Your Grace! ” Ser Franklyn greeted, arriving with the remaining knights and sergeants. “We have men prepared to lay siege to the castle at any moment.”

 

“No.” Dany stopped him before she stepped off her horse. “We’ll wait.” Looking around the camp, she found no sign of the man dressed in the gear of House Fell. So many soldiers, but not the one she searched for.

 

Ser Franklyn looked at her confused. “Wait? Apologies, Your Grace, but why?”

 

Dany’s eyes got reminiscent. “Because I made a promise.”

  
  
  


**_Jon XI_ **

 

The morning had come and gone when Jon rode through the structured mass of soldiers that stood prepared outside Felwood. The soldiers were divided into four units, standing in square formations. Knights and sergeants were charged with leading each unit for their specific task as soon as their commander gave the order. Trotting up to stand next to Jarin, who stood furthest to the right in the long line of mounted knights, Jon gave him a nod.

 

“We’re waiting too long,” Jarin said.

 

“No need to hurry,” Jon said. “They have nowhere to go.” There had been several attempts to leave the castle, but the Golden Company had done well to prevent any escapes. With Black Balaq and his men shooting down every raven coming to and from the castle - and there had been many - they had successfully cut off the people inside from the outside world. There would come no aid for House Fell.

 

“She’s not even here,” Jarin said. “Why lead the attack if she won’t be present?” Jon had no answer. The Princess had ridden away late at night with a small force of knights and soldiers after telling Franklyn she would lead the attack on Felwood the coming morning.

 

Time passed. Jon thought the situation odd. They should start the siege. What experience did the Princess have in taking castles?

 

It was then he felt it. A disturbance coming from the distance, traveling through the air. Jon looked around, glanced up at the sky, then heard the sound of leather slapping against the wind. Looking back, eyes narrowed to block out the direct sunlight, there was a figure high up in the sky - no, three figures - flying fast right at them. A shattering screech made every soldier turn their head to gaze at the winged creatures as they swiftly descended from the sky, swooped above their heads, their wings causing a storm, and unleashed fire on the castle walls. The cries of pain echoed across the area as the defending men burnt to death. Even from where Jon stood, he saw the men try to flee their posts in fear. The dragons circled around the castle and came back to continue to drench the walls in flames. Jon watched how the stories of his childhood came true, but far more brutal than what a young mind could imagine. Within minutes, all of the castle walls were in flames. All defense gone.

 

The dragons halted their attack. Two of them flew to the distance and the third - the black dread reborn - came back to them. The beast's landing in front of their forces caused the ground to shake. Above the dragon sat the Princess, dressed in black chainmail and leather vest, who didn't as much as glance their way. The dragon roared so mighty it struck fear in even their own forces and unleashed a powerful blow of flames against the gates. The extreme heat crumbled the hard wood and melted the hinges, making the gates come loose and fall to the ground.

 

With nothing left standing in their way, the dragon turned to them, and the Princess faced her army. "It's all yours." She told them and flew away. With nothing to stop them, Franklyn gave the signal and all their forces stormed through the destroyed gates. It was Griffin's Roost all over again, but with no soldiers to fight back. The castle itself was whole, as was the courtyard, but the walls were still burning. The Princess had been merciful and yet she had immobilized the castle's entire defense. If she wanted to, she could have decimated the entire thing.

 

All the soldiers still alive had already thrown down their weapons when the Golden Company came in. There was such terror on their faces as if they just faced their worst trauma.

 

"Seven hells..." Jarin whispered when they rode inside. There were burnt corpses that had fallen from the walls and in some cases, only burnt bone left. Soldiers were on their knees in defeat. The stabled horses who had witnessed the flames were still screaming in stress. "She barely used them..."

 

They both looked up at the loud crash of the dragon, Princess atop, landing on the highest tower. The beast gave out another might roar; displaying dominance over the conquered area - or was it the Princess?

 

Through clouds of smoke, Jon and Jarin approached the courtyard atop their horses and saw Franklyn order his men to break down the door to the keep and fetch Lord Harwood. But before they did, more soldiers of House Fell came out from the door and dropped their weapons. None of the Fell's dared fight them, not after the Princess and her dragons proved their destructive capabilities. It wasn't long until Lord Harwood was dragged out by his arms. "No no no- please I beg you, don't kill me!" The lord begged. "It was a mistake- House Fell has supported House Targaryen for centuries, but we had no choice-" Franklyn punched him in the face.

 

"Quit your whining," Franklyn said. "It's not to me you will answer." As if on cue, the dragon jumped from the tower and flew down, forcing the men to run away and leave room for the beast to land in the middle of the courtyard, making the ground shake on its impact. Jon stood to the side, trying to keep his horse from freaking out, but that didn't make the sight any less terrifying as the black dragon approached the Lord of House Fell.

  
  
  


**_Daenerys Targaryen X_ **

 

"Lord Harwood," Dany said as Balerion walked closer to the man held hostage.

 

"Please, forgive me." Lord Harwood pleaded. "Spare my life- spare my family's life!" Balerion's head came closer as he zeroed in on the man, barring his sharp teeth.

 

_ Weakling. _ When she looked at the cowering man, she only saw the one who left her alone to be raped and flashes of the men’s hands on her, pinning her to the table. The need for blood pumped in her veins and filled her mind. A part of her knew this choice would set the foundation for her. Lord Harwood had been right, her family was fear-inspiring, and they should prove to the realm that they were more, but she couldn’t. Every muscle and bone in her body screamed for revenge. Every move of Balerion was intertwined with her desires. When she sat atop the dragon - they were one - and the fire inside her craved death.

 

“Release him,” Dany said. The soldiers let go of the man and stepped aside.

 

“Oh thank you, Princess! House Fell will once again remain loyal to your family. We shall fight with you for the iron throne.” Deep down, there was an innocent part that told her to spare the man’s life to set a better example, but the dragon in her wouldn’t allow that. She had not burned the castle to the ground, but she wanted to. Mercy was a sign of weakness. A dragon does not show mercy.

 

Balerion inched closer and growled at him. “No,” Dany said. Her mercy had run its course.

 

“Your Grace?” He asked nervously.

 

_ No more mistakes. _

  
_ "Dracarys," _ Balerion opened his long jaw and drenched the lord of Felwood in fire, who gave out an agonizing scream as his flesh turned to ash.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn’t feel that the writing was at its best last chapter, so I tried to make this one better. I’m a beginner at this, which means I am learning as I go. Also, english is not my first language. In afterthought, it's kind of good that I have had a couple of chapters to build up the story, because by the time the important bits of the story kicks in, I will have learned a couple of things and my writing will have become better (hopefully).
> 
> I know there are some things you want to see happen in the story, but most important events are already planned out and some may take some time to arrive to. I know what I want to do with this story so hopefully you will enjoy what’s planned. I believe there are a couple of things that’s going to happen you won’t expect, particularly later in the story.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed the chapter, I tried to make it the best it could be. For those wondering, updates can be expected on Sundays. And thank you for the comments & all the kudos, it’s nice to see so many readers.


	13. Haunted

**_Rhaegar Targaryen VIII_ **

 

Men bowed as he rode past the gates into Griffin’s Roost along with the captain. Banners of gold and his family’s three-headed dragon decorated the courtyard where Connington and officers of the golden company awaited them. High in the air, a dragon flew through the sky with an echoing scream. His siblings had already arrived and stood surrounded by knights in golden armor. Connington approached him and kneeled as Rhaegar stepped off his horse. “Griffin’s Roost is yours, Your Grace.” 

 

Rhaegar signaled him to rise and grasped his shoulder in greeting before walking over to his siblings. Daenerys stood proud and confident as usual, though he couldn’t help but wonder how Lord Harwood’s betrayal had affected her. 

 

“Brother.” She greeted. 

 

“Sister. Are you well?” He asked. 

 

Dany nodded. “House Fell is no longer part of the picture.”

 

Rhaegar’s answer was silent. He had heard what happened back in Felwood. The question was if others had heard as well. Entering the keep and filling their bellies with food in the great hall, Connington filled him in on the details he hadn’t done in his letters. As far as he knew, there had been no leak of their positions. Strickland had agreed on that. The company’s spymaster had contacts who confirmed that there had been no movement of enemy forces in the realm, which gave them the upper hand in their conquest of the Stormlands. All four taken castles surrounded Storm’s End, though that would not make the feat any easier. 

 

They soon moved upstairs to the meeting room where they gathered every officer, sergeant, advisor, and commander. A plan had yet to be made as to how they should take the seat of House Baratheon. Everyone with knowledge of the castle agreed that a traditional siege would be too hard to pull off. 

 

“I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again -” Connington said. “Storm’s End cannot be taken by force. Doing so would only be foolish. We need to find a way to infiltrate the castle. Otherwise, we will be stuck outside the high walls trying to starve them out. And by then they will probably already have sent for reinforcements to attack us from behind.”

 

“How do you figure we get our men inside?” One of the sergeants asked.

 

“I have thought about it for a long time. Now hear me out: we spread the word that the Targaryens has lay anchor at the shores of Westeros and are planning to conquer the Stormlands. We wouldn’t even have to lie. Now Robert Baratheon, the boar he is, will gather his banners to repel our forces. But what he does not know is that we have already taken four castles in his lands. We’ll use the lords we hold captive and, under their banner, walk right into the stag’s nest acting as reinforcements. It’s true that there are more houses than the ones we control, but we are the closest. By the time they arrive, we will already have taken it.”

 

Captain Strickland agreed on the plan, saying he had the right men for the job. No surprise, Rhaegar thought. It seemed infiltration was a skill of the Golden Company. First the one time he heard about in the free cities and then the other, which only happened a little more than a week ago when someone seemingly gained access to Felwood and rescued his sister. He had asked both the captain and Connington, but no one knew the details about what happened, and Daenerys hadn’t given him anything more than that House Fell was no longer a problem. He figured a band of sellswords would have boasted and demanded a reward for such an endeavor, but there had been no one to take the glory.

 

The details of the plan took time to decide, making the meeting last long until the sun was about to go down and the participants got too tired to come up with inventive ideas. Dismissing everyone to get some rest, Rhaegar was left alone with Connington. 

 

“I must beg you for forgiveness.” Connington said. “I did not know the princess would walk into a trap.”

 

“That’s the least concern of yours, my friend. I was the one who told her to go.” He had been too naive to think their old allies would remain loyal. Nineteen years had passed and the world was not the same anymore. If the Fell’s had changed their ways and sworn allegiance to Tywin, surely others would have done the same. It put an obstacle in his plans, but he doubted all the kingdoms were equally favored under the usurpers rule. There must be houses who waited for the right moment to strike at the proud lions. “Since we have to reconsider our friends, who do you deem trustworthy? Or, at least, with shared goals.”

 

“The Greyjoys?” Connington jested. “As it seems like - no one. The Lannister and Tyrells are bound with marriage; Tywin’s daughter married the heir of Highgarden not long after the rebellion. The Baratheons they have a good relationship with. Dorne… well, I don’t know how inclined they would be to fight alongside us. Your father didn’t exactly leave much to be desired after he so passionately spoke ill of them and pushed them aside. The Vale and the Riverlands are tricky. Some houses are very loyal to the usurper, but others… I honestly have no clue. Perhaps they could be swayed to our cause. With proper motivation, of course. And finally, we have the Starks, who certainly does not carry any love for anything south of the northern border.”

 

“Are they still at war?” Rhaegar asked.

 

“I can’t say I know much of what goes on in the kingdoms. Last I heard, Rickard Stark was still kicking and unyielding in the many battles carried out between the north and the south. Though I wonder how much longer he can carry on. Old age will soon take its toll, I fear.”

 

Rhaegar frowned. His visits to the north had always been fond memories. The days when Lyanna showed him that her home was more than snow as far as the eyes could see. Her family had warmed to him with time and before he left, he had grown close to her brothers. Brandon Stark was very much a different character than him, but they still got along. The same went for Eddard, who he was more alike, and even the young Benjen. The wolf family. Many thought Brandon was the alpha wolf in the north, but those who knew them well knew that Lyanna was the fiercest of them all. A wolf if he ever saw one. He remembered the rides, the fights in the snow, the kisses under the trees and the touches in the hot springs. The memories were just as clear now as they were then. 

 

He never should have brought her from the north. She had been so alive up there. It’s where she belonged.  

 

He thought about sending a raven to Rickard Stark and ask them to join his cause, but would he accept? He and the Starks may have been very close once, but times had changed. Too many scars and traumatic experiences. He lost a wife, but Rickard lost a daughter. And the blame could be put on his father. Perhaps on Rhaegar as well. 

 

Rhaegar went to retire in the lord’s chamber, but couldn’t find any peace to relax. Too many thoughts and memories that circled around and left a storm of confusement. The past did nothing but plague him nowadays. Ghosts followed him everywhere. He could hear his father’s stern voice of disappointment. His mother tells him to stop this war and go live a peaceful life. And the worst of them all was the memories of Lyanna. Just remembering the better times made him want to crumble down and let out a scream loud enough to shatter the walls. Some people thought him emotionless and cold, but that was the only way for him to stay alive. There is a grave inside of him where he buries all the pain and emotion and every day he has to put on more and more dirt to keep it from escaping. He needed a battle. He needed to spill blood. It was the only way to channel the everlasting pain. When the battles started, Rhaegar won’t be sitting back to watch. No, he will lead the men himself, sword in hand, striking down all those who dared stand against him and those who had betrayed. For what else did he have left but revenge? Fire and blood. There was no better truth for his soul. 

  
  


**_Jon XII_ **

 

The sun had barely risen and most of the men were still deep asleep by the time Jon dressed and grabbed his sword. It was a common thing for him to be up early. Sleep never was a pleasant thing. He could keep himself busy during the day and focus on the task at hand, but at night and asleep he surrendered himself to his mind to conjure up any or all memories from the past. Neverending nightmares. Every night he was right back in the pits, fighting boys - his own friends - and killing them. He remembered all eyes that fell shut under his bare hands stained with the blood that never went away, no matter how many times he washed. 

 

Rousing Jarin from his sleep and urging him to get up, they exited the castle and walked down to the woods. The training that they had since childhood has always followed them, everything from strengthening their bodies to fine-tuning their swordplay. It was a lot more than what the others in the company did, but to the two of them, it was natural. Working away any weaknesses was trivial to staying alive, it was what they taught them in the pits - to have no weaknesses and to fight through the pain. The lessons had made them durable and vicious and to stop meant giving up on life. 

 

“How was the meeting?” Jarin asked while pulling himself up and down a tree branch. 

 

“A plan has been made.” Jon said doing the same. “We’re supposed to act as banners to the Baratheons and-” Jon grunted as the motion got harder. “they’ll just invite us into the castle.”

 

“Seems easy.” Jarin said as he dropped down to the grass and panted. 

 

Jon followed, breathing hard with sweat running down his forehead. “I don’t know. It seems like a big risk.”

 

“Says the one who loves dressing up.” Jarin said. They both picked up a sword.

 

“It has happened twice. And you were with me the first time.”

 

“Still your plan.” He said and swung his blade towards Jon.

 

The training carried on well into it was time to break their fast. Hungry and tired, they walked back to the castle to find food. They sat outside the courtyard with whatever they could find that was edible when the captain appeared in front of them. He looked at Jon and asked him for a word alone. 

 

Walking along the castle walls, the captain finally spoke. “Ready to put on yet another set of armor?” Harry asked. “Don’t play with me, I know you were the one to rescue the princess.”

 

“I just did what was required.” Jon said.

 

“Tell the king and he will surely reward you.”

 

“No need.”

 

Strickland laughed. “I know we stay away from calling ourselves sellswords, but honestly, that’s what we are. Now what sellsword says no to a big pouch of gold?”

 

“I have enough gold.” 

 

“A man can never have enough gold. Tell me the real reason.”

 

Jon sighed and shook his head. “What does it matter?”

 

“It doesn’t to me. All I care about is that we are not responsible for sending the princess to her death. It would be bad business, you know. But since you are so fond of dressing up, perhaps I should allow you to lead a part of our men.”

 

“You sound just like Jarin... I don’t like dressing up.”

 

“Sure you do. It’s the only time you can pretend to be someone you’re not. Now stop clinging to the details, are you up for the job?”

 

Jon nodded. “I am.” 

 

“Good. We’ll have a meeting hammering out the details in the evening. And Jon… good work.” With that, the captain left him. 

 

Jon stayed atop the wall for some time, contemplating over the job and all that came with it. Did he like being someone else? With a set of armor and a helmet, no one knew his true identity. He could be whatever he wanted. No one could see the scars that are hidden beneath, nor the monster inside that threatens to overwhelm. The time in the pits had broken something inside him that no amount of time would heal. For a boy who loathed the idea of hurting someone, Harand, and the instructors had spent a great amount of time to mold him into their perfect fighter. But what happens when you try to bend something that’s turned the other way? It breaks. 

 

Jon’s attention was brought up to the sky where three dragons appeared from beyond the woods. Their wings causing the trees to sway in their path. They landed in the grass some distance away from the castle, but Jon could still see the silver-haired princess approach the black dragon and stroke his snout. 

 

He remembered that night clearly. Glowing violet eyes staring right at him with the same intensity the dragon did back in Rainwood. Sharp, terrifying and beautiful all at the same time. All too easy to get lost in... 

 

Jon looked behind and saw another head with silver hair coming up the walls. The king, his first thought was, but he soon realized it was the prince. Viserys Targaryen looked out over the fields at the dragons with a grim look. His eyes turned to Jon. “Something on your mind, knight?”

 

“Forgive me. I shall not disturb you.” Jon said and went to leave. 

 

“Wait.” Jon stopped in his tracks. “What’s your name?” The prince asked.

 

“Jon.” 

 

“Ser Jon…? Nothing more?”

 

“It was the only name they gave me.”

 

“And who’s they?”

 

“The people who raised me.”

 

“And did these people not give you a last name? Not even a bastard’s name? I presume you come from Westeros, but perhaps I am mistaken.”

 

“This is my first time in Westeros. I grew up across the narrow sea.”

 

“So this is foreign land to you. Tell me, is it an improvement?”

 

“Can’t say, Your Grace. I don’t deem it worthy to judge the land on the few places we’ve been.”

 

“Smart. I will have you know there are a lot better places than this. How long have you served with the company?”

 

“Five years.”

 

“So for five years you have been fighting wars for gold. I trust you know the history behind the men you fight with? That the company was built by a Targaryen bastard.”

 

“I know the history well.”

 

“Then you know that Bittersteel had plans to conquer Westeros after his exile, but he never succeeded. Now almost a hundred years since its foundation, the company has returned for another try. Are you here for the gold, or do you share your exiled brothers dream of home?”

 

“I don’t see the point behind my reasoning. My goal remains the same.”

 

“Oh, but I do. A man who fights for gold and a man who fights for home is another thing altogether. There is no comparison. If you fight for gold you have no problems with fleeing the hardness of battle to find another source of income, but if you fight for home there is no other option.”

 

“I have no home. Never had. I have no connection to these lands. But gold is of no concern to me.”

 

“You are simply fighting for the fun of it? Seems rather pointless.”

 

“Well it was this or becoming a maester. Thought this line of work would be more adventurous.” 

 

“Ugh, don’t speak of such vile creatures. I can’t stand them. No loyalty whatsoever. They serve whoever lays claim to them, just like the castles they are assigned to. Well, that goes for sellswords also. Loyal to no one but themselves.”

 

“Are you questioning my loyalty?”

 

“Yes. I would be a fool not to, don’t you think?” Jon remained silent. It would be unwise to challenge royalty. “No answer to that? I’m disappointed. Perhaps I’m right in my judgment.”

 

“Rest assured, Your Grace. The Golden Company has never breached a contract, nor will I do any different.”

 

“We shall see.” Viserys looked back out at the dragons with a look Jon could only describe as jealousy. “What’s the word of my sister amongst the men?”

 

“What do you mean, your Grace?” He understood the question, but he had no idea how to answer.

 

Viserys sighed, irritated. “What are they saying about her?”

 

“I don’t listen much to simple ramblings, but after the siege of Felwood, there is certainly newfound respect for the princess.”

 

“Do you agree?”

 

“The princess has displayed great signs of strength. An important trait for a leader.”

 

“Don’t believe everything you see, Ser. She may enchant you like she has every man, but there is an ugliness inside. I know. I have seen it. There is a part of her that is more animal than a woman. Wait and you’ll see too. The dragons have left their mark on her. Soon she’ll be just like them.” Viserys left soon after, climbing down the wall by the stairs. 

 

Jon looked out again at the dragons where the princess just stepped up on the black one. The one she so fiercely rode and almost lay waste to an entire castle with. Was Jon’s impression of jealousy correct, or did the prince’s words hold truth?

  
  


**_Daenerys Targaryen XI_ **

 

Dany relished in the wind, flying high up in the sky. The dragons knew to not stray far from the castle and risk exposure, so they flew over the sea, above the empty fields and the dense woods. They flew so high she could almost touch the clouds. There was no better feeling. She wasn’t even riding Balerion - she was him - and he was her. Every sense was heightened after Felwood. She saw the world through his eyes, could spot the stags running amongst the trees thousands of feet beneath. 

 

Her children were hungry. They dropped and flew down to where she spotted their prey. The hunger intensified at the prospect of food. The stags ran. The dragons took chase. Watching the animals flee for their life made her think of Felwood. The men atop the walls, the men cut down in front of her as they tried to rape her, and Lord Harwood sending her to the cells. The stags made a mistake running out in the field. The dragons went for them. The men tried to run from the fire, but it spread so violently there was no chance. She felt pleasure doing it. Felt good cleansing the castle from the traitors. Balerion and his siblings dived down. The men screamed as they burnt. Lord Harwood howled in agonizing pain. They grabbed the stags with their claws - the animals cried out. This was just the beginning. What better way to cleanse the world from traitors than remake it in fire. Set the army of soldiers ablaze in punishment for what they had done. 

 

The dragons dropped their gain and landed amongst the trees.  _ I shall drench the fields in fire when the battle starts.  _ Dany stepped off and let her children fill their bellies.  _ Let them know that fire and blood is not a threat, but a promise.  _ They blew fire on the dead stags. The smell of flesh filled the air.  _ The Baratheons will go first, then I will take the rest. _

 

Balerion took a great bite of the dead carcass and suddenly filled Dany’s mouth with blood. Unprepared, she gagged and fell to all fours, tasting every bite of the dead stag. She panicked, but the dragons kept eating, all at the same time. Blood, blood and more blood filled her mouth and ran down her throat, filling her stomach, yet nothing came out as she tried to heave it up.

 

The waves of blood never stopped until the stags were all eaten and she remained crouched over, her whole body shaking from the intense intrusion.  _ What’s happening to me? _

 

Balerion nudged her with his snout, but she couldn’t move. She felt sick. The bond with her dragons had always made her feel the faint taste of what they ate, but this was something else. 

 

What was she thinking before? She was no mass-murderer. Why did she always think of killing? This was not her - it couldn’t be. Dany stood up on weak feet and noticed that the dragons were facing her way with curious looks.

 

Ever since their birth, she had seen past that her children were actually killers in nature. They reflect too much of themselves onto her.  _ We have to be more.  _ Dany rested her forehead against Balerion’s large head. The heat emanating from him resonated within her. 

 

She wanted to find another way. Truly. But the seven kingdoms were large, and the lords in power would never yield. The child who was shocked at her brother’s reason to buy slaves to fight a war, who wanted nothing else but stay in Essos - living peacefully - is slowly fading away. She tried to cling onto the hope that there would be a time for her to return, but in Dany’s heart, she knew that after the war she wouldn’t be there anymore. Innocence is a pure thing and purity is frail. It could never survive what was ahead of her. 

  
Balerion purred.  _ Oh, my child. There is no innocence in you, is there? Show me. Show me so that I can learn. Or else, I’ll be lost.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, I had other things on my mind. I know this was a short and slow chapter, but this was more to give some insight to the characters with not a lot of big events. But that is all because next chapter… is titled “Storm’s End”. Don’t know if it will come on sunday, but I’ll try. 
> 
> There could be minor details that will change along with the story. It's hard to plan everything ahead with the situation in Westeros and so on. 
> 
> Don’t know if you have already seen it, but the guy who made official posters for each GoT episode has made a new, and probably last, one. https://twitter.com/RobertMBall/status/1153349746511306759/photo/1  
> Kinda felt sad seeing it. It’s a great piece of art, but it just reminds me of what could have been with the series. I thought I would share it because this one picture has more depth than what season 8 had.
> 
> Thanks for reading and sticking with the story! All kudos and comments are welcome!


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